A Song Through the Night
by Yukito-sama
Summary: For the last 2 Chapters read A Song Through the Night Continued. Erik lives beneath Paris Opera House, writing a an untitled opera and taking fun in runing the opera as the Opera Ghost. He comes across Chrisitne one night and vows to help her in any way.
1. Prologue

Prologue 

Darkness had settled over the sleeping city. The full moon hung high in the velvet black sky, as stars twinkled, slowly fading behind puffs of gray clouds. Lights dimmed in the houses as street lights fought back the shadows from the side walks. Tavern doors were open, showing the giddy people full of booze and delight. 

A young man trotted down the street, a bouquet of fresh red roses in his gloved hands. His black cape floated behind him, reveling the nicely pressed suit he wore. A top hat rested on his head, hiding his cherry blonde hair. 

The wind rustled by, tossing the man's hat from his head. He turned and cursed under his breath. Without another thought he ran after it. His foot steps echoed off the cobblestone street, his free hand reaching for the tumbling hat. 

Finally the top hat came to a stop. The man smiled and scooped the hat up. He examined it, brushing off a few grains of dirt. With a sigh he placed on his head. Adjusting his hat, the man turned to begin his journey down the street. 

Suddenly a soft meow slithered from the darkness. The man came to a stop. He looked around his feet, only to find a Siamese kitten. The young cat looked up at him with crystal blue eyes, unblinking. Its charcoal colored tail flopped around. 

"Why, hello there!" he said with a smile. He knelt down and held out his gloved hand. The kitten sniffed it and looked him in the eye. "I've never seen a feline like you around here. You must belong to someone of high class!" 

A soft meow came from the cat, like some type of reply. 

The man chuckled. "Well, I have no time to chat to such a petty thing." He patted the Siamese on the head. "Now, off with you. It would be a terrible thing to find such a creature dead in the street." 

"In deed it would." The voice seemed to flow from the darkness behind the cat. It seemed to hold immense power, but came out as soft and tremulous. 

The man stood, his eyes fixated on the darkness of the ally. His dark blue eyes strained to find the source of the voice, but could not find a single person. His heart beat heavily in his chest, his eyes growing wider with fear. 

Without a word the man turned to leave but came face to face with a tall man. A soft, rose colored porcelain mask covered half of the man's face, leaving a beautifully shaped opening for his brown eye. The man was tall and wore an elegant suit and cloak. The bare skin of his face was pale, and his black hair brushed back, whisking around his ears. 

"Good evening, sir." he said, grasping the roses he had. 

The masked man sneered, his eyes fixating on the roses. "Roses? Who is the lovely mademoiselle that is to receive such a beautiful present?" He touched the velvet petals with a white, gloved hand. "The young woman must mean much if you're going to her at such an hour." 

He nodded. "She is." A soft smile crossed his face as he looked at the roses. "She is a beautiful woman and I adore her more than life itself. I only hope she feels the same way, and I can gather my courage to approach her in person." 

"You've never spoken with the girl?" the masked man asked, raising an eyebrow. He suddenly bent down and picked up the cat, delicately. He stroked the cat's fur, causing the Siamese to purr. "A strange romance if I say so. Who, may I ask, is she?" 

"Her name is Christine Daae." he replied with a smile. "She is a chorus girl from the Paris Opera house. She is a beauty." He adjusted the flowers. "Christine may not be of great importance in the Opera populace, but she means a great deal to me." 

The masked man suddenly took hold of the man's neck. The cat jumped from his arms, slowly circling around his feet. A soft growl seemed to grow from the masked man's throat. His brown eyes bore into the young suitor's soul. 

"I suggest that you stay away from the Opera House. No one within those walls should be bothered by such a petty thing." he said in great disgust. The masked man tightened his grip on the young suitor's neck. The man clawed at the gloved hands, letting the bouquet fall to the cold ground. "I do not wish to harm you, but I will if I must." 

"Please," the man gasped. "let me go. I will abide by your wishes if you let me live." 

Without a word the masked man let go of the suitor. The young man fell to his knees gasping for air. His hat fell from his head, tumbling to the masked man's feet. He kicked it away with a soft laugh. He bent down and picked up the fallen roses, his eyes coming into contact with the suitor's. 

"I bide you good night." the masked man said, adjusting the roses, pulling out the ruined stems. He looked down at the Siamese kitten, which meowed playfully. "Come, Ayesha. It is time we return to the Opera House." 

The masked man turned on his heel and began walking down the street. The cat trotted beside him, her head in the air with pride. The man hummed a song, that lingered in the air as a fog rolled in. 

The young suitor was left alone, gasping for air and wondering what had happened. He stood, not bothering to grab his hat. Brushing the dirt from his clothes, he looked down the street, his eyes struck with fear. The man and his cat were gone. Without another glance he turned and ran. Fear was dancing in his heart, and that masked face lingered in his memory. 


	2. Chapter one

Chapter one 

A week later 

Ominous music drifted through the Opera House. Workers paused from building the sets. The young chorus girls were running back and forth, crying out in fear with every shadow, hurrying to gather their things. The actors laughed nervously at the young girls, but they, too, feared that music. 

"This is a complete and utter outrage!" M. Armand Moncharmin yelled. He slammed the door to his office shut. He held a crumpled envelope in his hand. He looked at M. Firmin Richard, who was at his desk writing away. "Firmin!" 

The Opera manager looked up. The soft candle light shined on his brushed back blonde hair. "What is it now, Armand?" 

Armand approached his joint manager. He threw the envelope down with a huff. "Look at that! Another note from the damned ghost of ours. With all the money he's asking for we'll be broke before we know it!" Armand fell into his chair with a sigh. "I thought we'd be making money for ourselves, not for some unseen creature!" 

Firmin picked up the envelope and pulled the letter out. He scanned the words, showing no emotion. "My word!" he exclaimed. Firmin put his work down and examined the letter more thoroughly. "He's asking for twice as much money! What for?" 

"He gave no reason, Firmin!" Armand yelled. He ran a hand through his brown hair. The two became silent. The only sound drifting through the office was the music that seemed to emanate from every corner of the Opera House. 

With a cry of frustration Armand stood, nearly throwing his chair to the ground. He looked down at the floor, as if it were the source of the music. "I wish that hellish music would stop!" Armand yelled. His voice echoed off the walls and caused Firmin to jump. 

Suddenly everything was silent. The two managers looked at each other in amazement. 

Armand gave a nervous laugh. "If I knew it was that easy, I would've done that earlier." 

A scream cut through the air, causing Armand to jump. He spun around, looking at his door. Firmin stood and looked at his friend. Another scream rang out, followed my a crash. The two managers rushed out of their office, their hearts pounding in their chest. 

********** 

Erik listened to the yelling above him. His brown eyes were fixated on the flames of a candelabra. A loud crash sounded above his home once more. Erik smiled softly. Even though he was creating such chaos, he found it so very amusing. 

The slender Siamese cat came trotting over to Erik. She craned her head as she looked up at her master. With a purr she jumped onto Erik's lap. Ayesha looked at him with half open eyes. She purred and ran her head on Erik's stomach. 

"Oh, Ayesha." Erik whispered. He began to pet the cat with a gloved hand. His eyes turned to the purring Siamese. A soft smile crossed his face. "It seems you've become restless as well. Night after night, the two of us sit awake, you chasing after spiders and mice. Me. . . . Well, all I can manage to do is compose an opera. I still haven't figure a name for that damn thing." 

Ayesha meowed and opened her crystal blue eyes. 

Erik laughed softly. The sound drifted through the air and seemed to slither through the stones of his roof. "I don't think that would a suitable name, Ayesha." Erik said. He smiled softly and kissed the cat's head. She purred merrily. "It may do us both some good if we took a walk. It may be reaching the midnight hours, but we do what me must." 

Ayesha jumped from her master's lap and trotted off. 

With a sigh Erik stood. He stretched his arms as he strode towards a coat rack. He plucked his cloak from the wooden handles and put it on. Shaking his head Erik took his hat and placed in on his head. Pausing he stepped in front of a single mirror he had. He looked at himself, swallowing the little fear he had. Erik fixed his hat until he found it suitable. 

"Ayesha?" Erik called. 

The Siamese ran towards Erik, the bell on her collar ringing all the way. Erik bent down, his arms open. Ayesha jumped into his waiting arms like a child. Erik smiled and held her close. He planted a kiss on her head. 

"Lets see if the moon is out to night. It should be a wonderful sight." Erik said as he began walking. He looked at Ayesha who was staring back. "The Opera House can do without me for a few hours. Mme. Giry should be delivering my letter soon enough." 

********** 

"How did this happen?" Armand yelled. The stage was littered with costumes and props strewn about the seats. Armand looked at the faces of amazed cast members and set crews. "Well? Who's going to clean this up?" 

No one moved. They looked at each other but said nothing. 

"Speak up!" Firmin said, his voice slightly raised. His eyes looked over everyone there. "Does no one know how this happened? These things couldn't have done it themselves." 

Meg Giry stepped forward. Her head was slightly bent, sending her curled hair over her eyes. She cleared her throat slightly. "It was the Phantom." Meg said in a meek voice. 

Armand narrowed his eyes. "What?" 

"It was the Phantom." Meg repeated. 

"We heard you the first time, dear." Armand snapped. 

Firmin took Armand by the arm and led him off to the side. The manager looked his friend in the eye. "These people are obsessed with this Phantom character." Firmin whispered. His eyes glanced over to Meg. "Every misfortune that befalls anyone or anything is blamed on the Phantom Ever since we arrived it was all they talked about." 

Armand shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Its all they know, Firmin. They claim to see the poor thing." He laughed softly. "I will only believe in the thing once I see it." 

Turning on his heel, Armand faced the people of the Opera House. "Now, then. I want you all to begin picking everything up! No one is to leave until it is finished." 

"Christine Daae has already left, sir." Meg suddenly said. She looked at the managers with a soft smile. "She said she was feeling ill and took it upon herself to leave early. Christine is dreadfully sorry and promises to stay later the moment she can return." 

Firmin sighed. "Its all right." 

"M. Moncharmin and Richard. I have something for you." 

The two managers turned around. Madame Giry came walking down the aisle. She was the mother of young Meg and held two jobs in the theatre; she was box keeper and dance instructor. Despite her growing age she still held the youthfulness of her daughter. 

"What is it now?" Firmin sighed. "If you can't tell, we have something of a problem on stage." 

Mme. Giry sighed. "The Ghost requested I give this to you." She held out her hand that was clasped around an envelope. "He said it is for you and you alone." 

Armand snatched the letter from Mme. Giry. He eyed her for a moment. Pull open the envelope Armand pulled out a small piece of paper. "How dare he?" 

Firmin peered over his friend's shoulder. "What does it say?" 

"Our ghost is making threats! Can you believe that?" Armand hissed. He crumpled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket. He turned and faced Firmin. "No one is to tell him to stop his music, unless they wish to get involved in horrible consequences." 

Firmin opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. 

"It would be wise, sir, to obey his wishes." Mme. Giry explained. She raised her heard slightly. With a sigh she began walking towards Meg. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to anyone here. Would we?" 

"No." Firmin said quickly. He looked at Armand. "Come, Armand, we should head back to the office. We have some letters to write and some money to send out to our friend." 

"I am not. . . ." Armand said with growing anger. 

Firmin clasped a hand over Armand's mouth. He shook his head. "I don't care what you think, but we should go along with this for now. We'll strike back in due time." 

A smug smile crossed Armand's face as Firmin removed his hand. "I guess I can with hold all my anger for a while." 

"Good." Firmin looked at the members of the Opera. "Clean up this mess and then head home. You will receive extra money for this work." Armand gave Firmin a questioning look. "I know what I'm doing." Firmin smiled. 

********** 

Erik walked down the abandoned streets of Paris. Ayesha trotted in front of him, her tail held up in pride and her small bell jingling with every movement. Erik smiled to himself, walking slowly and keeping an eye on his pet. He treated the young cat more like his daughter than anything else. Everything Ayesha needed was given to her without a thought of why. 

"Don't go too far, Ayesha." Erik called. 

Ayesha glanced at Erik and meowed. The cat quickened her step. 

"Ayesha." Erik called. 

Suddenly the young Siamese sprang into a run. Her small feet carried her through the shadows and around the bend of the street. Erik stopped in mid-step, his heart all but stopped. His eyes widened in horror when he didn't see the face of Ayesha appear from the corner, beckoning him to come run with her. 

"Ayesha!" Erik cried. He began to run down the side walk, following the cat's unseen trail. Erik's cloak billowed out behind him, his hat nearly falling from his head. He quickly held onto the hat, rounding the turn with incredible speed. 

Erik came to a stop, his heart skipping a beat. A young woman stood, her eyes wide with fear, with Ayesha in her arms. The small cat looked at Erik and meowed happily. Wriggling out of the young woman's arms she bounded for Erik. A bead of sweat ran down the her temple. 

Silence settled once more. Ayesha had stopped purring and was now staring up at Erik. The young woman's wavy, dark brown hair danced in the slight breeze. The two stared at each other. While fear danced in the young stranger's eyes, a look of love dwindled in Erik's. 

"Thank you, mademoiselle, for finding my dear Ayesha." Erik said, finally breaking their silence. He looked at Ayesha and stroked her fur. "She is my prized possession and I don't know what I'd do without her." Erik's eyes drifted back to the young woman. Her face was flushed, but not from embarrassment. "Are you all right?" 

The young woman nodded, unable to speak. "I'm just feeling a little tired." she said, her voice soft and meek. Her hands fiddled with the tie of her cloak. 

Erik took a step towards the young woman, but she moved away. Ayesha jumped from Erik's arms and took her position on a doorstep. "Please, mademoiselle, I do not wish you any harm. I am offering you an escort home." 

"It would be out of your way, monsieur." The young woman protested. She lowered her eyes, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "I do not want you to spend your time bothering with someone like me. My home is not far from here." 

"I insist." Erik said quickly. He took a few steps towards the young woman. Her eyes followed Erik, unblinking. "You caught my cat before she ran too far from me. This is all I can do in thanks." 

The young woman looked up at Erik. Her eyes shook for a moment. A wavered breath escaped her lips as she tried to reply. Her eyes fluttered and then rolled back. Without warning her body went limp and began to fall. 

Erik gasped and quickly took hold of the woman's falling body. His hat tumbled from his head with the sudden motion. Ayesha jumped in surprise as the hat fell a few inches from her. She meowed and looked at Erik as he tired to wake the young woman. 

"Mademoiselle?" Erik said. He shook the young woman slightly. Cautiously removing the glove from his hand, Erik pressed it against the woman's forehead. "My God! She has a terrible fever! If only I knew where she lived." Erik whispered. 

Ayesha let out a meow. She pawed anxiously at Erik's hat. 

Erik looked down at his pet. "Thank you, Ayesha." He picked up his hat and put it on, managing to keep the woman steady. "The only thing I can do is take her home with us, my dear. If we left her here should could be attacked." 

Without struggling Erik cradled the unconsciousness woman in his arms. He paused, looking her over. His heart skipped a beat. The young woman was beautiful beyond his imagination. Erik pushed back a strand of hair from her face. 

"Flawless beauty." Erik whispered. He sighed and looked down at Ayesha. "Come now. We must hurry before anyone sees us." 

The two began their hurried walk home. 


	3. Chapter two

Chapter two 

Soft music from an unseen organ flowed through the wooden doors. Christine stirred in the bed, turning onto her back. With a soft breath her eyes slowly opened. She felt like her forehead was on fire. Strands of hair clung to the sides of her face. 

Christine slowly sat up. Her head pounded with a head and she stopped. A folded towel tumbled off of her forehead and onto her lap. Christine picked it. The towel was almost dry. She looked around and noticed a small bowl filled with water. 

`Where am I?' Christine thought. She put the towel next to the bowl of water. Christine felt something stir around her feet. She pulled her legs up to her and noticed a small Siamese cat sound a sleep on the blanket. `I remember that cat. It belonged to a strange man. . . . This must be his home!' 

The cat made a soft noise, but didn't wake. 

Christine smiled softly. She pushed the covers off her and gasped. Her clothes had been changed. She wore a soft pink nightgown. Christine felt her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment. Unless the strange man had a female companion, the man himself had changed her. 

Moving in silence, Christine pulled open the large wooden door. She was met by the soft music that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Christine lifted up her gown slightly and tip-toed across the cold stone floor. She came to a halt as she passed through another set of doors. Her jaw dropped and her heart skipped a beat. 

The main room of the lavish home seemed to open up to her. A fireplace sat against a wall, burning wood with soft crackling. A Persian rug sat in front of the fireplace with books open and staked up from late night reading. An array of black velvet cushioned furniture graced the room itself. The only lighting was that of low burning candles and oil lamps. 

Christine fell onto the cushions of one of the lavish couches. A wave of warmth flowed over her. She didn't know if it was the fever or the warmth of the fire, but didn't care nonetheless. She let her head fall against the back of the couch with a sigh. 

Time seemed to stop as Christine began to wander the house she had woken up in. She looked through rooms of books, art, and sheets of music. A small area had been put to one side for a dinning and kitchen area. It looked neglected and tired, as if the strange man never bothered to eat. 

Christine soon found herself back in the main room. She had taken a liking to the Persian rug and the warmth of the fireplace. She spent the time petting the sleepy cat and flipping through the books that had been set. They were books on medicine, herbs, and illnesses. Who ever the man was, he had his mind set on helping Christine back to full health. 

"Good morning." 

Christine turned and looked towards a once closed door. It was the man she met what only felt like hours before. The hat and cloak he once wore were gone, reveling a slim, well-built figure and brown hair that curled around his ear. A simple porcelain mask covered the right side of his face, which held an elaborate opening for his simple brown eye. He wore full evening dress and a pair of white gloves that covered his long, thing fingers. 

With a sudden intake of breath Christine struggled to her feet. She fixed the gown she wore, feeling her cheeks grow warm. Her eyes shifted to Erik. A smile had shifted across his solemn face, giving him a warmer look. 

"How are you feeling?" Erik asked. He moved around the couch elegantly. Erik made no sound as he moved over a rug or the stone floor. He looked at Christine and motioned towards the couch. "Please, sit. You'll feel worse sitting on the floor." 

Christine said nothing as she took a seat on the couch. She watched as Erik brought in a tray of drinks and placed it on the small table in front of the couch. He began pouring the drinks, his eyes never coming in contact with Christine. Christine, though, watched Erik's movements in a daze. Her eyes were wide, not in fear, but in praise. 

Erik turned to give Christine a cup but stopped. Their eyes met for an instant. Christine's cheeks grew rosy and she turned her eyes abruptly. Erik felt the same feeling rising in him, but managed to subside it all. 

"You should drink this." Erik said gently. Christine looked at him. Erik smiled, trying to coax her like a wounded animal. "It will help your fever." 

Christine took the cup and looked into it. With soft breath she could smell the tea and lemon that had been cooked together. Christine smiled slightly and began to drink. Her eyes wandered to Erik as she did. Erik was putting a small bowl of soup onto the table and slowly gathering everything up. He hadn't touched the tea he had poured for himself. 

As Erik stood to leave Christine put her cup down. "Thank you." she said, her voice soft and quivering. She looked up at Erik. He was in disbelief. 

"Excuse me?" Erik asked, sitting down and placing the tray back onto the table. 

"I said thank you." Christine said. She lowered her eyes. "I was amazed to find myself in good care when I woke. At first I was frightened, but when I saw your cat I felt a little better. But. . . ." Christine's voice trailed off. She looked into Erik's eyes and noticed a strange twinkle that was urging her on. "When I heard that music," Christine whispered. "I felt as if I was in heaven. I have been on the rug for hours, I believe. I almost lost myself in it." She laughed nervously. 

A smile crossed Erik's face, but quickly disappeared. "Thank you for those kind words. . . . ." 

"Daae!" Christine said, interrupting. Her cheeks now had a child's rosy color to it. "My name is Christine Daae." 

Erik nodded, as if he knew what it was. The memory of the young suitor, though, began racing through his head. He was on his way to send her flowers. Erik understood why now. This young woman was beautiful beyond his imagination. 

"My name is Erik." 

Christine smiled softly. "That's a beautiful name." Her fingers soon began to play with the lace trim around the cuffs of her sleeves. "A suitable name for such a talented man." She lifted her eyes to Erik. "Have you ever been to the Opera House?" 

Erik had to stop himself from laughing. He knew, though, that no one knew who he was. He had made sure that he was only seen when he chose to. The young ballet girls were the ones he took joy in scaring. Their high pitched screams made him laugh even harder as he watched them run in every direction. 

"Yes," Erik replied. "I go to the Opera for every performance." 

Christine's eyes widened in childlike amazement. "Every performance? What box do you own? You must own one!" Slowly she began to ramble on. "I haven't met a single regular who doesn't own a box in the theatre." 

"Box five." Erik said. 

A sudden silence settled between them. Christine stared at Erik with a blank expression. She blinked, unable to respond. Erik averted his eyes to the fire place. He couldn't stand her staring at him. Not like that. It had been years since some stared at him like that. Years of pain and being placed on a stage without as much a thank you from his `manager.' 

"You own box five?" Christine asked, managing to regain her voice. Her hand took hold of her cup and she took a quick drink. "Box five is reserved for one person and one person alone." 

"The Opera Ghost?" Erik asked. A soft smile of pride came across his lips. He saw the disbelief cross Christine's face. 

Christine clasped her hands together. Her eyes stared into Erik's. "Who are you? How can you get into the box without being seen?" 

Erik's mind began to work quickly. A story of mystery and music began to fill his mind. Could he speak this to Christine though? If he told her, would she believe him, or find out the lie? He only had one of finding out. 

"I am the angel of music." Erik spoke gently. 

"The angel of music." Christine breathed. Her eyes seemed to soften and her expression changed to one of dreaming love. "You're the angel who teaches music to us. Before my father died he spoke of such angels! Could you teach me to sing?" 

Erik gave Christine a quizzical look. As he looked at Christine's childlike face, he felt his own doubt and morals diminish. Cautiously he wrapped his gloved hands around hers. He smiled softly when Christine didn't pull away in fear. 

"You wish for me to teach you?" Erik asked. 

Christine nodded eagerly. "Yes! Please! I will do anything for you, Erik." Her hands tightened around Erik's. "My dream is to sing as beautiful as an angel. My father said it could happen with the help of an angel." With a quivering hand Christine touched Erik's cheek lightly. "I might have found that angel who will help." 

Erik suddenly pulled away. He couldn't do this. He couldn't teach her. Erik had fallen for her when she collapsed in his arms, and now she was close enough to kiss. All she wanted, though, was to be taught by her supposed angel and Erik was the only person who could do this for her. He was he angel. 

"Will you teach me?" Christine asked again. 

Erik looked down at Christine. Her light brown eyes looked up at him, begging him to oblige her simple request. With a simple smile Erik felt his fears melt away and only saw that Christine was the angel he had been looking for himself. 

"I will teach you on my conditions." Erik said, finally breaking through his silence. He took a seat, this time farther away from Christine. "You must devote yourself to your teachings and not let anyone interfere. Your lessons will be every night from your dressing room." 

"Will I see you?" Christine asked. 

Erik shook his head. "You will only hear my voice, but I will show myself when needed." Erik looked into Christine's eyes. "I am your protector, Christine. Under my guidance you, too, can sing with the angels. And I," Erik lightly touched Christine's cheek. "will lift you to the clouds of heaven." 

Christine smiled happily and took Erik's hand into her own. Tears of joy welled up in her eyes and began to trail down her rosy cheeks. With a slender finger Erik wiped it away. 


	4. Chapter three

Chapter three 

Erik tapped his fingers irritably against the side of his piano. His eyes dazed into the music he had written, the song playing continuously in his mind, only to stop at crescendo of the music he couldn't finish. With growing anger Erik began to rhythmically play the crescendo but stopped. He narrowed his eyes. His own creation was getting the best of him. 

Ayesha slept on the satin sheets of Erik's bed. Her collar had been removed and placed on one of the pillows. The young Siamese stirred, rolling onto her other side. Her purring drifted through the air like a soft fog. 

The door to Erik's room opened without a sound. Christine walked in, her foot steps muted by the soft Persian rug. Erik cocked his head to one side, but didn't look at Christine face to face. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, giving no sense of emotion. 

"Erik." Christine said. The young woman's hair was pulled back, but the ringlets still fell around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide in childlike wonder as they scanned the room. They quickly returned to Erik when she saw him move. 

Erik ran a hand through his brown hair. "What is it?" he asked, scribbling a few notes onto his sheet of music. His gloved hands soon began to move up and down the keys, sending his sweet music into the air. Erik's full attention turned back to his original interest; his music. 

Christine took a few steps closer to Erik, fidgeting with her hands nervously. "I was wondering when I could return to my home and the opera house." Her eyes began to wander around the dimly lit room again. The room was nearly empty, with a chair here and there, but nothing compared to the main room. "I know I have been gone for a day, at the least, but people will begin to worry. Meg Giry would be in tears if I was no where to be found. If I don't return soon, the managers of the opera house wont pay me. I must work." 

By now Erik was enveloped by his music. His eyes were glazed over and his fingers moved across the keys with ease and grace. His eyes slowly closed. "I have much work for you, Christine." Erik said, almost singing the words to his music. He turned his head and opened his eyes, starring deep into Christine's. "You are not over your cold yet, teaching you in this condition could ruin your voice. I want to keep you here to manage your fever. Without my knowledge, your cold could double it's intensity." 

Christine began to protest but stopped. Erik had stopped playing his music and now looked at Christine with anger in his eyes. He rose from his chair and approached her. Christine backed away from her approaching teacher. His shadow enveloped her own and soon swept over her face like an ominous cloud. 

"Do you want me to teach you, Christine?" Erik asked. Anger lingered in his voice, but he was trying hard to surpress it. 

"Yes." Christine stuttered. Her eyes were wide with fear. She never noticed how tall Erik was. He loomed over her by a few inches that felt like feet. "I must return to the opera house, though. Erik, its the only way I can survive in the world." 

Erik turned, sharply, away from Christine. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists in anger. He could feel her eyes on him, those eyes that always seemed to question him and pry off his mask. Erik let out a wavering sigh. 

"Then go." Erik whispered. 

Christine blinked, not knowing how to react. "What?" 

Erik spun around, his eyes now full of unrequited anger. "Go! Leave this haven of music. If the damned opera house means more then the music I promised you, than go. I will not stand to teach an insolent woman who knows nothing when it comes to singing." 

Tears had begun to trickle down Christine's cheeks. Her eyes were wide in amazement. "Erik, you know I want to sing. You promised you would. I promised to obey your commands." She wiped her tears away. "Please, Erik." 

Christine took Erik's hand but he pulled away. He turned away from her and walked to his piano. He took a seat and didn't give Christine another look. Once again his eyes seemed to change appearance as Erik began to play a song unknown to Christine. 

The music leapt from Erik's fingers and into the chords of the piano. Slowly, as if lead by a chain around her neck, Christine began to approach the piano. Her tears were gone and now a look of love filled her brown eyes. She took in a breath and paused, tearing herself from the trance. Still Erik continued with the soft tune. 

Slowly Christine noticed Erik's lips were moving as if he was singing with the song. Christine began to approach Erik once more. She tried in vain to listen to Erik's voice, but all she heard was the piano. Before she knew it, Christine was standing next to Erik, still straining to listen to her teacher sing. 

Christine suddenly noticed Erik's eyes had turned to her once more. She felt her cheeks grow warm. A soft smile crossed her face. Erik didn't smile, but raised his voice to an audible level. He stared at Christine, unblinking and slowly stood to his feet and ceasing his wonderful music. 

"Since first I saw your face I renowned to honor and renown ye. . . . If now I be disdained I wish my heart had never known ye." 

The sound that escaped Erik was indescribable. It was nothing like Christine had imagined. His voice was sweet and strong. It suited him, giving the aura of mystery an even stronger sense. Christine could only imagine that angels wept at the sound of his voice. 

Erik took Christine's face into his hands and continued to sing the song. Their eyes locked and Christine felt her heart skip a beat as Erik leaned his face closer to hers. He was now singing to her and to her only. His eyes stared into hers, letting his music feed into the heart of his student. Erik's voice grew softer until the song was only a memory. 

The two stood, starring into each other's eyes without a notion of looking away. Erik pulled his hands away, slowly. Christine closed her eyes as she felt his arms wrap around her. She let her head rest on his shoulder and felt a tear run down her cheek. 

"Will you ever leave or resist me?" Erik whispered. His gloved hand began to entwine itself around Christine's hair. 

"No." Christine replied. Another tear crept down her cheeks. "I want you to sing for me, Erik, and I want to sing for you." 

Erik took a step back, lifting Christine's face. He wiped away the tears that lingered on her rosy cheeks. She smiled softly, but Erik didn't return the gesture. Her heart felt heavy as Erik turned back to his piano. The magic between them had disappeared with his majestic song. Erik showed no remnants of that moment when their hearts were one. 

The silence between them lengthened as Erik sat at the piano, resting his gloved fingers on the keys. A sigh escaped him. "Tomorrow I will escort you back to the opera house, Christine." Erik said without looking at her. "You should feel better, and I trust that you will return to me." 

A smile crossed Christine's face. "Thank you." 

Erik's only reply was the song he had begun to sing only minuets earlier. Christine walked over to Ayesha, who was still sleeping. She sat on Erik's bed, stroking the cat's fur and humming the melody of the song. 

"Since first I saw your face I resolved to honor and renown ye. If now I be disdained I wish my heart had never known ye. What I that loved, and you that liked shall we begin to wrangle." 

Christine laid down on the satin blankets, her eyes slowly closing. She listened as Erik's voice seemed to drift into silence and the only sound was her breathing. Christine let her hand come to rest on Ayesha. She could feel the cat purring with joy. 

Before Erik knew it, Christine was asleep. He stood a few feet away from his bed, watching his student and cat sleep. He smiled, half to himself. He had won Christine's heart through music. Erik was now one step closer to the only thing he wanted. One precious, beautiful step closer to his goal. Love. 


	5. Chapter four

Chapter four 

Fresh rain glistened on the empty streets of Paris. The sun was shielded from view, giving the city a look of night. As the rain let up, the people still remained in their homes, warming themselves by fires. A few carriages rolled down the street, water splashing beneath the turning wheels. 

Erik lead Christine through the alley ways of the city. A blind fold had been placed over her eyes, preventing her from knowing the location of Erik's home. He had taken the precaution and hoped to double back to the opera house. He didn't trust Christine enough to let her know how to enter his home. She could sooner bring an unwanted quest then news of her being the lead role. 

Slowly the two came to a stop. Erik looked about, tilting his hat so a shadow passed over the right side of his face. His fingers worked around the ties of the blind fold. Christine didn't move as the cloth was removed from her face. 

Christine's eyes fluttered open and sparkled when they met with Erik's. A soft smile crossed her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Erik placed a slender finger against he lips. Christine nodded and remained silent. 

Taking Christine's hand Erik began their journey back to the Pairs Opera House. The alleys were clear of people, leaving a cloak of security around the two. Erik had suggested taking the alleys and Christine didn't complain. The mask had frightened her and would, no doubt, frighten others. 

Finally Erik came to a stop. The opera house stood in front of them. Christine squeezed Erik's hand, but he didn't return it. Erik gave Christine a glance before dashing across the street. The speed caused their cloaks to spring to life, letting them dance together in the rushing wind. 

"You mustn't make a sound when we enter, and mustn't speak of me or where you have been." Erik whispered, leading Christine away from the main entrance. He glanced around a corner before leading Christine down a darkened stairway. "I don't wish to be seen by others." Erik motioned to his mask and all Christine could do was nod in acceptance. 

Pulling a small pin from an unseen pocket, Erik worked the door's lock like a master. His brown eyes glistened as he heard a small click. Placing the pin back into it's place, he pulled open the door. Christine smiled with amusement at Erik's ability. He smiled softly and took Christine's hand once more. Without a sound the two disappeared into the darkness of the theatre. 

********** 

"She's been gone for two days!" Armand cried, causing Meg and Mme. Giry to jump. Firmin turned away from the set directors and sighed. "Christine hasn't been seen at all. Did you search her home? Her dressing room? Do you know of her family?" The string of questions grew, causing both Meg and her mother to answer with a mere yes or no. 

Firmin smiled and shook his head. He moved to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. Armand fell silent and Meg and her mother looked at him. "Just check Mademoiselle Daae's dressing room once more. If she isn't to be found we will call the police. You're help is beyond our thanks. A member of opera populare is important to us." 

Mme. Giry gave a quick nod and lead her daughter away. Armand looked at Firmin angrily. He shook off his friend's hand and walked towards the stage. Firmin frowned and followed after Armand. 

"What's come over you, Armand?" Firmin asked. He trotted up the stage stairs. "You've been barking orders at our workers like never before." 

"These people are too difficult." Armand said, rounding on his friend. "They cannot find one single chorus girl. She must know that a chorus member is easy to replace, because she it seems like she doesn't give a damn. Because of Mademoiselle Daae we've been set back two days in the rehearsals of this production." 

Firmin stared at Armand in disbelief. "Mademoiselle Daae has been ill, Armand. Maybe her illness has sent her away and she had no means of contacting us." he suggested. He watched as Armand began to work with a set designer. "You can't be serious about replacing her. She's sick, for God's sake! You're taking this job too seriously." 

Armand looked at Firmin and frowned. "And you're not taking it serious enough!" He motioned for his friend to follow. The two began a slow walk around the stage, watching chorus girls dance and actors go over their lines. "These people belong to us, Firmin. We have to be strict or they will walk all over us." 

"I understand." Firmin replied. "When Mademoiselle Daae returns, I'll have a talk with her." 

"If she returns." Armand said bitterly. 

********** 

"When will you come back?" Christine asked. Her eyes searched Erik's face for an unspoken answer. "I want to see you again." 

Erik turned his face away. She was asking something that would be hard, but he wanted it. He looked at Christine and let a soft smile cross his face. Taking her hands into his own he nodded. "If it's what you wish, I will return to you in a week's time. We'll return to my home and you can spend Saturday and Sunday within my home. I will teach you so much, Christine, and all I ask in return is your companionship." 

Christine smiled in pure joy. She nodded, not able to give Erik the answer verbally. His eyes seemed to sparkle with his joy. Christine looked at Erik, studying his face closely. The mask was an elaborate piece of art, having a place for his eyes, painted with mute colors. The other side of his face was beautiful. His brown eyes seemed to make his pale skin glow and his hair lingered in his face, giving him a childlike look. 

"I will do anything to be your student, Erik." Christine said with a smile. 

Erik nodded, as if he knew she was going to say that. With his free hand he brushed away a strand of hair from Christine's face. "Tonight is your first vocal lesson, Christine. Be in your dressing room, alone. You will hear me, and nothing else." Erik explained. 

"Okay." 

Erik raised Christine's hand to his lips and kissed it softly. Christine shuddered at the coldness of his touch, but did nothing else. Erik looked up at her, his eyes changing emotion. She smiled softly and he did the same. He leaned his face closer to hers, causing Christine's heart to beat faster. 

"Will you ever leave me?" Erik asked, his voice a hushed whisper. 

"No." Christine replied in the same manner. She could hardly speak as she stared into Erik's eyes. Once again he was so close to each other. She had the urge to kiss him, but pushed from her mind. She had no idea if Erik felt the same. Christine's question was answered as Erik leaned his face closer to hers. 

"Christine!" 

Christine turned her face away, seeing Meg and her mother coming down the dimly lit hall. She turned to look at Erik, but he was gone. The only thing remaining of the masked man was a single rose in her hand. She hadn't seen him carrying one, but knew that this angel was also a magician of sorts. 


	6. Chapter five

Chapter five 

Erik settled into one of the velvet lined chairs in Box five. The candles in the box were never lit, giving Erik the comfortable cloak of darkness he wished for. Now he had time to reflect on what had just happened. He knew how close he had been to Christine, and how the primeval lust for human flesh had swept over him. Erik knew that Christine was an innocent, but she held the beauty of every creature within her eyes, body, and voice. 

The chorus girls had assembled on stage and the orchestra pit was filled with the players. Erik sat back in his chair, listening to the music of `Hannibal.' His eyes watched as the youthful girls danced across the stage in their costumes. After a few moves Christine and Meg hustled onto the stage and managed to fall instep with the rest of the girls. 

"Monsieur?" 

Erik let out a soft sigh as he recognized the aging voice of Mme. Giry. He made no attempt to acknowledge the woman or move from his chair. His eyes still watched Christine dance around stage. The music was lifting his fear of be caught by anyone besides Mme. Giry or Christine. 

"Have they been worried?" Erik asked, finally breaking the silence between him and Mme. Giry. He rested his elbows of the chair's arms, bring his hands together and bringing them near his lips. 

"Yes." Mme. Giry replied. She made no effort to move towards Erik, but remained at the curtains of the box. "She plays one of the main slave girls in this opera. It is a step up for her, you know. We have been proud." 

Erik shook his head. He removed his hat and placed it on the chair beside him. "She has such potential as a singer, Mme. Giry. Did you know that?" Erik didn't bother to wait for the woman's reply. "If given the right teaching she could become one of the best singers this opera house has seen. I have taken Mademoiselle Daae as my pupil." 

Mme. Giry let out a vague gasp. "Monsieur! Mademoiselle Daae is a very naive child. Her mind is full of fairy tales. It has been worse ever since her father died." 

Erik smiled to himself as the music stopped and Christine began to practice her steps. "How old is she?" 

"Almost twenty." Mme. Giry replied softly. She began to grow uneasy as she heard Erik mutter that she was only two years younger than he. "She is young, Monsieur, and too delicate! You mustn't fill her mind with the dreams you weave. It has only been two years since her father left her. Mademoiselle Daae is still healing." 

"I understand, Mme. Giry!" Erik said, his tone growing bitter. He clenched a hand into a fist. He grew silent, letting the only sound come from him was his own breathing. Swallowing his anger, Erik continued. "Who has the lead female role in this opera?" 

Mme. Giry paused. "Carlotta Giudicelli." 

With a wave of his hand, Erik produced a small envelope. He placed it on the small table separating his chair and the empty one beside it. "Give this letter to the managers. It is of urgent news, Mme. Giry, so I hope it is given to them as quick as possible." 

Slowly approaching the table, Mme. Giry bent down to pick up the letter. Her eyes turned Erik and she froze. He watched her, silently, out the corner of his eye. The white mask hid any emotion on display. She felt a cold chill run down her spine. 

Mme. Giry quickly grabbed the letter and turned to walk away. 

"Oh," Erik said, suddenly. "one more thing." 

"Yes, monsieur." Mme. Giry replied, slowly turning back to Erik. 

Erik placed thirty francs on the table. "I wish for a glass of wine. The best you can find." He turned in his chair, catching Mme. Giry as she bent to pick up the money. She froze and stared into his eyes. "Speak nothing of me. I don't wish to be known by people, other than you and Mademoiselle Daae. If there is any money left, you may keep it for yourself." 

Mme. Giry back away, the money clutched to her chest like it was keeping hold of her courage. She looked down at the money. "I couldn't, monsieur." 

"You don't get paid enough for what you." Erik replied. He turned in his seat and gazed across the empty seats. In a few days all the seats would be packed full of people. . . . People here to see Carlotta. Of course, Erik had other plans for Signora Giudicelli. "You've taught so many people." Erik said, continuing. "You've seen many things. So many horrid things." Laughter soon burst forth from Erik's body. 

********** 

Christine sat in her dressing room, starring dreamily into the mirror of her vanity dresser. She smiled softly and raised a brush to her curly black hair. So much had happened in so little time. After spending only a matter days with Erik, Christine felt like she had been changed. The Angel's voice seemed to raise her spirits and ignite a new found flame in her soul. 

The rose Erik had left with her sat in a small vase. Christine looked at it a smiled, remembering the moment before Meg and her mother arrived. Their lips almost met. Christine shuddered at the thought. It was blasphemous to think of kissing an angel in the manner of human lust. She knew that, but she still had the inkling that Erik was something more. 

A soft knock sounded at the closed door. Christine didn't bother to turn, but looked into her mirror. The door reflected in the glass, unmoving. She hoped the intruder would leave her in peace so she could prepare for her night's lesson. 

The knock came again. 

With a sigh Christine put down her brush. "Come in." she said, raising a small powder puff to her cheeks. The door open and the petite frame of Meg appeared. Her cheeks were flushed from an obvious run, but she didn't breathe hard. Her eyes, though, were wide with fear. 

"Meg!" Christine cried. She stood quickly and rushed to her young friend. "What's wrong, Meg? It looks like you've seen a ghost!" The small girl gave no reply. Christine closed the door and lead her friend to a small couch. The two sat, Christine trying to comfort Meg. "What's wrong? There has to be something wrong, Meg. I can see it your eyes." 

Slowly Meg looked up at Christine. She blinked and a tear trickled down her cheeks. "Joseph Bouquet is dead, Christine! He was hung from the cat walk. No one knew he was there until his body fell, nearly crushing Signora Giudicelli!" 

Christine let out a startled gasp. Joseph Bouquet was their resident set changer, and the best at that. He did no harm, but managed to fabricate tales about the Opera Ghost. The chorus girls would gather around, begging him to retell tales of his encounters with the ghost. 

`He saw us!' Christine remembered. `Joseph saw Erik bring me into the Opera House. My Lord, why didn't I think of this before? That look Erik gave him was enough to kill anyone's soul.' 

"Christine?" 

"What?" Christine asked, startled. 

Meg looked at Christine, her eyes wide with child like innocence. "Is everything okay? Ever since your came back from your disappearance you've been acting strange. You've never acted like this before, and I've known you for years! Was it that man mama and I saw you with?" 

Christine smiled and felt her cheeks flush. She had a feeling Meg had seen Erik, but hoped that she didn't. "I suppose so." she replied softly. 

"You have an admirer!" Meg swooned. She looked at Christine dreamily. "Oh how lucky you are, Christine! Are you going to full fill your father's wishes soon? Will you finally find your man and marry? Oh, how lovely it would be to see you with a young baby in your arms. The child will look like you!" 

A soft laugh escaped Christine. "You're jumping to conclusions, Meg. I have not thought of marriage with this man. I have known for only a few days, just enough to consider him a friend, and nothing more." 

Meg smiled slyly. "But the way the two of you were in the darkened hall didn't make it seem like he was just a friend." 

"Meg!" Christine cried out. 

"Ha! You're blushing, Christine. I must be right." 

"You are not, Meg. You know nothing of the sort." 

"Oh, but I do! The way you two were so close. It looked as if he was to kiss you, and you weren't making a single move to stop him." 

Christine blushed and turned her head away, trying to hide her smile of joy. Her hopes had proven right! Erik was going to kiss her, at least Meg and herself thought so. She could only hope that next time they wouldn't be disturbed and kiss could be exchanged. 

Meg suddenly let out a gleeful squeal. "Christine, you blush like a school girl!" The young chorus girl threw her arms around Christine. "You feel fondness towards that man! I can see it in your eyes. There is no denying that! Don't worry, though! I promise not to mention a word of this to anyone." 

Before Christine could reply, the giddy chorus girl had ran out of the room. She felt a smile form on her face once again. She knew Meg had seen through the fabricated lies. She did adore Erik, but she couldn't tell if he felt the same way. Christine could only hope that Meg was right. 

********** 

"This isn't good!" Firmin said reading over the Opera Ghost's latest letter. He sighed. "I had a hunch he was behind this!" 

Armand lifted his head from his desk. The anger reflected in his eyes as he looked at his business companion. "How could you tell? That damned Ghost didn't even give an insinuation of his hand in what happened. It can't plainly be in that letter." 

Firmin shrugged. "True, but he did say that if Signora Giudicelli is not stripped of her leading role a great misfortune will fall upon her." He put the letter down and looked coldly at Armand. "Just today Joseph Bouquet was killed and fell, nearly hitting la Carlotta. Now, tell me this isn't our ghost's doing." 

"Our friend is quiet tricky." Armand said, slowly standing. 

Firmin nodded. "And he always happens to be seen or heard from after our little `accidents' are committed." 

"And who, Armand, is the only person the delivers the letters to us?" Firmin asked with a menacing smile. 

Armand stood. "Mme. Giry!" 

"Precisely!" 

"What are you saying, Firmin? Do you think Mme. Giry is behind all this? Pardon my saying, but she doesn't seem like the person to do such a thing." 

"No! What I was saying is that Mme. Giry must speak or see our ghost to receive the letters. So, if, by chance, we have someone follow Mme. Giry around, without her knowing, we could find out who our ghost is." 

Armand smiled and approached Firmin. "Are you serious about this? If Mme. Giry, or our ghost, found out what we're doing, we could get in trouble." 

Firmin shook his head. "We are of high standings in Paris, my dear friend. Mme. Giry couldn't do a thing to us!" 

"And what about our ghost?" 

"His days will soon be numbered, Armand. I can guarantee you that." 


	7. Chapter six

Chapter six  
  
  
"Meow."  
  
Christine turned around, gripping the shawl around her shoulderightly. Her heart beat in her chest quickly, scared by the sudden sound.  
She looked at her feet and let out a sigh. Ayesha, Erik's felinompanion, sat at the sidewalk's bend, staring at her tentatively.  
  
A soft beam of hope shined in Christine's eyes as Ayesha stared aer, her thin tail swishing around. Erik hadn't appeared for her lessons,  
leaving her alone and near tears in her dressing room. Meg had stopped in,  
before she left, to see what she was doing. Amazed to see her friend iears, they spent an hour talking. Finally Christine had gathered hehings and left, knowing Erik wouldn't come to her.  
  
"Hello there!" Christine mused, kneeling down to stroke Ayesha's fur.  
The Siamese cat purred happily, closing her eyes to the loving touch.  
"What are you doing out here?"  
  
Ayesha meowed in reply.  
  
Casually Christine picked Ayesha up, letting her shawl fall to thround, and held her in her arms. "Where's Erik? I didn't think he'd leou out of his sight!" She began to walk, stroking the cat's fur anistening to the soft purring. "You know, your master didn't show uonight. I was waiting for hours, Ayesha, and I didn't hear a sing worrom him. Were you the source of my problems? Maybe you ran off and had to go after you. Oh well! At least I have you and you can get back to  
Erik safe and sound."  
  
"Excuse me, Mademoiselle!"  
  
Christine glanced over her shoulder, coming to a stop. A man camunning up to her, her scarf clasped in his hand. Ayesha fidgeted anumped from Christine's arms. The cat hissed viscously at the stranger,  
causing him to come to a stop a few feet from them both. The man looked at  
Ayesha nervously, the cat arching her back and her fur standing on end.  
  
"Yes?" Christine asked, nervously.  
  
The man held out the scarf, with a slight smile. "You dropped youhawl. A person shouldn't be out in the cold without one.  
  
Gingerly Christine took her shawl and wrapped it around herself.  
"Thank you, Monsieur. I would have never noticed." she said with smile.  
Ayesha let out a meow and Christine looked down at her. She sighed.  
"Well, I must go. I must return this cat to her master. Good night."  
  
As Christine began to pick Ayesha up, the man stopped her, placing and on her shoulder. Christine spun around, her eyes wide with fear withe sudden invasion of personal space. Ayesha hissed once more, sensing  
Christine's trouble. The man drew his hand back, slowly.  
  
"Please answer me one question, Mademoiselle." the man said. Hiyes studied Christine's face. "Have we met before?"  
  
Christine shook her head. "I don't think so. You must have gottee mixed up with someone else. Good night!" Christine quickly grabbed  
Ayesha and began to walk away.  
  
"Isn't your name Christine Daae?" the man called.  
  
"Good night, Monsieur!" Christine called, her heart skipping a beas the man said her name. She hurried away, Ayesha growling in her arms.  
  
**********  
  
Erik gazed across the street, his eyes burning with an anger he haever felt before. He watched as Christine hurried away, Ayesha in herms as if she was her only defense. The stranger stood, watching heisappear around a bend with a reflection of sadness in his eyes.  
  
With a snicker at the man's failure, Erik turned and walked down thtreet. His mind lingered on the way the man had approached Christine. Hnew her from some where, but Christine seemed to forget, her mind only oeturning Ayesha to Erik. Erik felt pride with that single thought.  
Christine was dedicated to him, just like she had promised.  
  
A fog slowly rolled down the street. Erik smiled as he remembered  
Christine's conversation with Meg Giry. The way her cheeks grew rosy witvery mention that she or he showed an inkling of affection for each other.  
Erik had been amazed by the act and left his spot from behind Christine'irror. His mind and body was betraying him with every thought of  
Christine. He couldn't go on with Christine's first lesson without an odilence lingering between them both.  
  
"Erik?"  
  
Erik spun around, his hand tucking away beneath his cloak gripping ahe end of his Punjab lasso. His heart skipped a beat as the fog seemed telt away from Christine's body. Ayesha called to Erik, jumping from  
Christine and into Erik's arms. Erik looked around as Ayesha nuzzled heead against his chest. He walked faster than he thought. The opera housas about three blocks away.  
  
"Why didn't you come to me tonight?" Christine asked, her voicingering in the misted air.  
  
"I had my reason's, Christine." Erik replied, trying not to be curt.  
He bent down, letting Ayesha stand and rub her body against his leg. Hooked at Christine and noticed a hurt expression on her face. She haxpected to hear him, and Erik knew he had crushed her hope to sing anear him sing.  
  
Lowering her head and eyes from Erik's view, Christine let out avering breath. "I shall see you later then, Erik. Good night."  
  
As Christine walked away Erik took her arm and pulled her bacowards him. Christine let out a startled gasp as her body came to met  
Erik's. She looked into his eyes, her heart beating franticly. Erik'yes softened as he looked into her face.  
  
"Come with me, Christine." Erik whispered. He held her close aneld back a shudder as Christine rested her head on his shoulder. "Come ty home again. The house felt empty with out you gracing its rooms. Thoom you slept in hasn't been touched since your left."  
  
Christine didn't move. "I must return to the opera tomorrow, though.  
Mme. Giry wont have me late again, and I must get my dancing as perfecs possible."  
  
Cupping Christine's chin in his gloved hand, Erik lifted her face tis. Christine's breath caught in her throat as Erik's lips grazed acroser cheek. His voice began to sing a soothing song that Christine couldn'elp but follow.  
  
Erik stopped, smiling at Christine's dazed look. "Will you come wite, my angel?"  
  
"I would never leave you, Erik."  
  
A smile crossed Erik's face as Christine took his arm. The twalked, with Ayesha leading the way. He was happy, now sure that Christinouldn't leave him. She was under his power and her true feelings werlowly surfacing. 


	8. Chapter seven

Chapter seven  
  
  
The night had withered away to the dark hours of morning. Christinad long fallen asleep, with Ayesha curled up at the foot of the bed. Thandles in the main room had been blown out and the dying embers of thireplace glowed red. A soft music drifted through the air as Erik trieo play his piano as soft as possible, not wanting to wake Christine.  
  
Erik stopped, listening dolefully as the grandfather clock chimed fohe third hour He ran a hand through his black hair, feeling the stringf his mask gaze across his palm. He let out a sigh, pulling his handrom his hair. He was condemned to wear the damned thing for the rest ois life. Erik never understood why a person's look could determine theiuture, but he had to bend to the whim of his mother and has worn the masver since he could remember.  
  
Putting down the key's cover Erik slowly moved out of his room. Halked quietly through the main chamber, missing every piece of furniturnd missing every creaking floor board. His ungloved hands found hiiolin case easily. Erik paused, looking a the closed door to Christine'oom. With a sigh, and flawless memory, he slipped out of the housithout a single sound.  
  
Unlit candelabras stood near the trail the lead to Erik's homeneath the Paris Opera House. Erik walked slowly down the path. Thound of rippling water guided him towards the edge of the lake thaeparated him from the rest of the world. The simple wooden boat he hatruck the dock he had made in the spare time years before.  
  
Coming to a stop on the dock's edge, Erik sat down. His feet hunlmost an inch above the dark water. Ignoring the sounds of the water,  
Erik pulled his violin from its case. The wood felt cold beneath his faikinned hands. He closed his eyes and brought the instrument to his chin.  
  
After a moment of silence, a beautiful sound escaped the strings ohe instrument. The song flowed from the violin, encasing Erik in a worle had once known. He stood, swaying with the soft music as it echoed ofhe lake and stone walls of his creation. Memories of opera past and thymns from Notre Dame de Paris poured from memories almost forgotten.  
  
A tear ran down Erik's unmasked cheek, as the song crescendoed. Thorld seemed to slow as the song quickened with the song's sweet sound.  
His heart quickened with the music and his breath came out as hums as thusic enveloped him in a blanket. His mind was filled with completappiness.  
  
"You play beautifully."  
  
Erik opened his eyes, neither bothering to stop or surprised that  
Christine was there. She stood in the night gown Erik insisted she wornd bare feet. Her mane of raven colored hair was pulled away from heace, showing off her purely innocent appearance.  
  
"What is it called?" Christine asked, her voice soft and delicate.  
  
Erik slowly came to a stop. "Its a song by Bach. A very nice piece.  
One of the first I learned when I was a child." He knelt down and put thiolin in its case. He eyed Christine for a moment. She hadn't moved, heands fidgeting with the cuffs of her dress. A smile came across Erik'ace, but he hid it quickly. "I'm sorry that I woke you, Christine. I  
didn't want to disturb your sleep, so I came out here to play."  
  
Christine shook her head. A few strands of her curly hair fell inter face. "It was the sweetest sound, Erik. The music called me from mreams and I couldn't help but wake." She took a step closer to him. Heyes looked over his white mask but tried not to linger on it. "An angean't help but do what he has been set out to fulfill."  
  
With a slender finger, Erik brushed away the free strands of  
Christine's hair. Her cheeks flushed and her hand grazed across the haihat he had touched. She lowered her eyes, bashful of her display ohildlike emotions.  
  
"Both of us should get some sleep." Erik said, turning his face awarom Christine. He could feel his own cheeks flush and give warmth to thask that was facing Christine. "You lesson took a lot out of you,  
Christine, and it would be best if you rested your voice. I will returou to the opera house tomorrow."  
  
Christine reached out to place a hand on Erik's shoulder. Erik spuround, his right hand catching Christine's own, his eyes wide with angend fear. Christine let out a whimper as Erik's hand tightened. "Don'ven dare touch my mask." he hissed. Erik's eyes softened and he let go of  
Christine. She pulled her injured wrist to her body, his eyes full omazement and fear.  
  
"I'm sorry, Christine." Erik said, trying quickly to appologize. Hingloved hand motioned to his mask. "When you reached for me, I thoughou were going to take my mask."  
  
Christine shook in fear and as the coldness from the lake drifteround her bare skin. Erik took a step towards her, but she recoiled. Hiands grazed across her face, lovingly, and he managed to coax her closeo him. He wrapped hiHHHHHs arms around her petite body, and smiled timself as Christine's arms enclosed themselves around his waist.  
  
"Erik?" Christine whispered.  
  
"Hmm?" Erik said.  
  
"Do angels have feelings?"  
  
"Every creature has the capability of emotions, Christine. No mattehat they look like or what they are."  
  
"Can angels love?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
Erik didn't reply. He could feel as Christine shifted, uneasy abouis sudden silence. Erik pulled away, slightly, and looked down at  
Christine. She looked up at him, her eyes examining his face. A sofmile came across her face, easing a smile across Erik's face. He haever noticed how small Christine was before than. She came up to hihoulders and seemed fragile next his small, but powerful body.  
  
Without a word Erik took Christine's face into his hands. She leut a gasp at the sudden touch and coldness of Erik's skin. Her hearluttered as his face grew closer to hers. Christine closed her eyes,  
hoping that this wasn't a dream. Their lips met and, to them, time ceaseo be.  
  
Erik's hand held Christine into place; one around her waist and thther on the nape of her neck. Christine's hands were wrapped around hieck, trying to hold her up. Her legs were weak and her mind in a spin omotions. After only four days of knowing this man, this angel, anindering feelings of love, her dream had come true.  
  
Slowly Erik pulled away, still holding Christine close to his body.  
In that fleeting second of rapture, their lives seemed to meet and theiouls forever joined. He didn't know what to do with those feelings,  
having never felt or recived love from a woman in his life. Even his owother shunned him, giving him a mask as her only gift to him.  
  
"Have you ever loved ?" Christine asked, finally breaking theiilence. She didn't look at Erik, and he didn't look at her.  
  
Erik whispered his reply, afraid that he would hear what he dreaded.  
"No, Christine, and no one has loved me. I have lived that way all mife, and expect nothing more." He stroked her hair slowly. "As beautifus I seem, there is a creature that lurks inside this angel. Once thireature comes forth, nothing, not even my music, can change a person'eelings for me."  
  
With those final words, Erik took his violin, whispered a good nighnd disappeared into his room.  
  
Christine quickly retired to her own bedroom. As she settled inthe bed, her body near sleep, she could almost hear her angel cry. 


	9. Chapter eight

Chapter eight  
  
  
Christine sat at the vanity table that was placed in her room. Erieported to her that the opera house would be closed for the next day ooo. Upon asking why, Erik explained that the police were investigatinhe death of Joseph Bouquet. He muttered something about the relevance ot all, but said nothing else.  
  
Slowly running a comb through her hair, Christine looked dreamilnto the mirror. Memories of the night before danced through her mind.  
The music, the way Erik held her, and their conversation. Then, with igh, the feeling of the stolen kiss came back. Christine smiled softly,  
and let her free hand skim her lips gently. With the tenderness of it all,  
the sound of Erik crying had scared her. She had hurt him, but she didn'now how.  
  
There was a soft knock at the door. Christine put the brush down anooked at her reflection. "Come in."  
  
The door opened without a sound. Erik's familiar figure appeared ahe door. He was fully dressed and wore a mask Christine had never seeefore. The mask covered almost every part of his face, leaving teautifully carved holes for his eyes. The mask stopped on the bridge of  
Erik's nose and reached half way down his cheeks before leading back up.  
  
Erik held his hat in his gloved hands, his fingers tapping nervousln the rim. His eyes studied Christine for a moment. With a heavy breath,  
Erik put on his hat. "Christine, I'm going to leave you alone for a feours. I have some business to tend to on the other side of the city."  
  
Christine's eyes widened. She stood abruptly, knocking over thooden chair she had sat in. "You're leaving me?"  
  
"For no more than four hours, Christine." Erik said. His hanripped the doorknob. Turning away he left the room without a word.  
  
A stunned and frightened silence fell around Christine. She hurrieut of the room, calling for Erik. She nearly ran into him as she fled heoom. Erik was startled as Christine threw her arms around him. He slowleturned the embrace, still unsure of himself.  
  
"What's wrong?" Erik whispered.  
  
Christine buried her face into his chest, holding onto him tight.  
"I've never been in this place without you. Someone could break in" Heoice was muffled in his shirt. She stiffened as Erik's hands took heace and pulled her away. Christine never knew how much she was dependinn him now. When they first met, she felt like straying away, but now evehe thought of being without him was sickening.  
  
Erik's brown eyes searched Christine's. "You're safe here,  
Christine. No one knows where we are." His slender fingers ran througer hair. He chuckled. "If I would've known you'd be this scared, I  
would've told my friend to come here."  
  
"What am I supposed to do to day?" Christine asked.  
  
With a slight pause Erik turned away and moved towards his cloak,  
which had been draped over one of the wooden chairs. His hands disappearento a pocket. They shuffled around for a moment. In a second he haulled out a single key.  
  
"Did you see the path leading away from the docks and the house?"  
Erik asked, approaching Christine. She nodded. "If you follow it, it wilead you to the street. The only way to get out is with this key. Can I  
trust you with it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Erik took Christine's hand into his. He slipped the key into healm, lingering there for a moment. His eyes looked at her hands. His owtiffened and slowly pulled away.  
  
"I will return before sunset." Erik said, suddenly turning away from  
Christine. He strode to his cloak and swung it on. He fixed himself anyes Christine. She hadn't moved much, and was now clutching the key ter chest. "Will you be okay?"  
  
Christine nodded, feeling tears forming.  
  
Erik drew closer to Christine. He took her hand and kissed ioftly. Her cheeks flushed and a smile came across his face. Without ord, Erik placed a soft kiss on Christine's cheek. He whispered a gooye, his breath heavy on her neck. With a swift turn he was gone, leaving  
Christine stunned and her heart fluttering with love.  
  
**********  
  
Erik never knew the name of the restaurant he disappeared to oncvery few months. It was large; large enough so he'd feel safe from pryinyes. The waiters and the owner of the restaurant all knew Erik, by namnd by appearance. They asked no questions when he appeared, but greeteim with a bright smile and a bow. They escorted him through the maze oables and to one that was nestled in a dark corner. No-one asked what hanted to drink, knowing all too well he wanted the best wine they had.  
  
With soft candle light and the sound of violins playing on a stage ihe center of the restaurant, Erik felt sheltered from the world. Hiloved fingers lingered on the rim of the crystal wine glass, slidincross the smooth surface. He gazed at the two artists as they played onata on their instruments. His fingers seemed to itch with the urge tnatch the instruments away and begin to play his own music.  
  
"Monsieur!" Erik said, waving his hand into the air.  
  
A waiter turned and bustled over to Erik's table. He gave a curt bond sighed. "May I be of assistance, Monsieur?"  
  
"Yes." Erik replied softly. He met the young man's gaze. "I waondering if you have a writing utensil with you." The waiter reached intis pocket and held out a pencil. Erik took it gingerly and nodded.  
"Thank. That will be all."  
  
Turning away from the waiter, Erik began to scribble musical notes ohe cloth napkin. He hummed the notes to himself, pausing and repeating take sure it sounded right. A soft smile had crossed his face as half ohe cloth had been filled within seconds. It seemed like a whole symphonas playing inside his mind.  
  
"Erik?"  
  
Finishing up the note he was working on, Erik raised his head. A  
smile danced across his face. The familiar form of his Persian frientood before him. His seemed to have changed once more. Now he hainally adopted the French way of clothing.  
  
"Akil!" Erik said merrily. He stood and extended his hand  
  
The Persian smiled and shook Erik's gloved hand. The two sat, Eriuickly putting his napkin in a pocket of his cloak. A waiter seemed tppear automatically. He took Akil's drink and food order, somewhaurprised that Erik declined the offer of food.  
  
Akil eyed Erik for a moment. "Have you already eaten, Erik? Its noike you to not eat. Is there something wrong?"  
  
Erik shook his head. "I am not in the mood to eat, Akil. Why thuestions. You never seemed surprised before." He took a drink of winefore turning his eyes to the violinists. "I swear, sometimes you worroo much. Its not good for a man your age."  
  
Akil was taken aback. He opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn'hink of anything to say. He was only twenty-five years Erik's senior, buid it well. Akil always seemed to take offense when Erik poked fun at hige, even though he was growing accustomed to the teasing child.  
  
"You're right." Akil said. He tapped his fingers on the desk anooked at the violinist. A sigh escaped him, causing Erik to eye him for oment. "I can tell, though, that you're hiding something from me, Erik.  
Befriending you for almost ten years, I know how you act Something iothering you. Or should I someone?"  
  
Erik's hands tightened on the laced table cloth. He glared at Akior a moment. Their eyes met, Akil seeming to stare Erik down for econd. "You should watch where you tread, old man." Erik spat. His eyelashed with anger. "You may find yourself trapped and when you do, iill be too late."  
  
A sly smile came across Akil's face. He leaned his face closer to  
Erik's. "Who is she?"  
  
"What?" Erik gasped, amazed at his Persian friend's perception.  
"I'll never understand you, Akil." He tried his greatest to surpress hiising anger. He would never know how Akil knew about her. He alwayeemed to see past everything and get beneath Erik's skin.  
  
"I want a name." Akil said sternly.  
  
Erik fidgeted for a moment, feeling like he was a child again. Akilways held him as a pupil, even though the shah had presented Erik as igher court member than Akil himself. Only being at the age of fifteen,  
and having an intelligence greater than most people he met, Erik felt like  
Akil overpowered him in so many ways.  
  
"Christine." Erik replied softly.  
  
"Where did you meet her?" Akil asked, pushing Erik on.  
  
"The Opera House. Where else would I meet someone?"  
  
"She sings than?"  
  
Erik nodded.  
  
"How old is she?"  
  
"Almost twenty, Akil."  
  
Akil nodded. He pulled a notepad out of his pocket and began trite on it.  
  
"Do you have what I need?"  
  
"Yes, yes." Akil replied, waving his hand. He continued to write.  
He paused, looking up at Erik who was growing impatient. "Have you donnything to her, or to anyone else? I hope to Allah that you haven't gonack on our promise."  
  
"Are you serious?" Erik asked, sounding disgusted. "I've been taughetter, Akil. Above everything else I know that I mustn't go back on romise, and that woman are fragile creatures. My years in the Opera housave been peaceful."  
  
With a smile Akil placed a black bag on the table. "I guess you'varned this then. I'm very happy with you, Erik."  
  
Erik suddenly slammed his hand on the table. Akil jumped, amazed ais friend's sudden outburst. "I am not a God damn dog, Akil. I will noork for you approval and these God forsaken 'treats.'" Erik yelled. Thoom seemed to fall silent and all eyes turned to Erik. The usual feelinf uneasiness didn't fall upon Erik, instead it seemed like he didn'otice.  
  
"Erik, don't do this." Akil said, reaching for Erik's arm.  
  
"Don't you touch me." Erik snapped. He slapped Akil's hand awaiolently. He snatched the bag up and sneered. "I'm a man, Akil, and I  
don't need to be treated as an absent minded child. I know right frorong and I don't need you to tell me what I can't do. I thank you fohis and I bid you good day!"  
  
With a simple movement Erik had his cloak and hat and. He slippehe black bag in a hidden pocket. He took the remaining drink of his winnd slammed his glass down. A spider-web crack slithered up the glass'ase.  
  
Akil let out an amazed gasp as he looked up at Erik. For the firsime in years, he saw that Erik had changed. He seemed to hold much morower than he had at fifteen. Erik had grown, in height and strength.  
Throughout it all, though, he seemed to hold the elegance of every persond the kindness he once knew was buried away in the exterior of a morbian.  
  
The restaurant had finally gone back to its usual course. The peoplegan to eat, still whispering about the masked man's outburst. After oment of silence the violinists began to play.  
  
"Erik, don't leave like this." Akil said, standing. "I know I'vffended you. . . ."  
  
"You don't know what you've done, Akil." Erik snarled. He turneway sharply. "I would advise you to call before coming to me again. Iould be very dreadful if something would happen to you."  
  
Before Akil could react Erik was already gone. 


	10. Chapter nine

Chapter nine  
  
  
  
The day had passed by slowly for Christine. She spent hours in front of a fire, she managed to make, reading the books Erik had. Ayesha slept half the day away on Erik's bed, occasionally waking to the soft hands of Christine stroking her fur. For about an hour Christine had fallen asleep next Ayesha. Strangely enough, she had a dream about Erik crying for something. She couldn't hear what he said though.  
  
An hour or so after midday, Christine gathered up her scarf, and a basket, and decided to set out for a quick shopping trip. She was amazed to find that Erik lived beneath the opera house itself. She thought of no better place for him, though. This was the best place for music in all of France.  
  
A cool fall air whisked around the city and the other shoppers were dressed as warm as they could. Christine disappeared into a bakery, grabbing some fresh bread and than hurried off to by some vegetables and fruits. She paused at a small flower shop. A smile crossed her face as she gazed through the window. Bouquets of flowers were set all over the store, letting their aroma float into the street. Without think she slipped inside and bought a couple of roses, thinking that it would make Erik's home a bit more lively.  
  
The journey home was colder than it was when Christine first set out. The wind tugged at her scarf, and she tried to keep it on, but to no avail. Christine, with a full basket, tried to catch it without dropping what she had just bought. With a shiver she decided to let the old scarf fly away.  
  
"Oh no." Christine whispered. She wrapped her free arm around her waist. The scarf was one of the only things she had to remember her father by. By now, though, the scarf was too far off to try to run and catch.  
  
Out of nowhere a man seemed to pluck the scarf out of the air. Christine was stunned to see that this was the same man she had run into the night before. He looked at her, a smile dancing across his face. He approached Christine, who was now flushing with embarrassment.  
  
"I believe this is yours." the man said.  
  
"Y-yes." Christine stammered. She took the scarf and managed to drape it over herself. "Thank you, monsieur. If it wasn't for you this would be lost forever." There was a moment of awkward silence. Christine fidgeted and forced a smile. "I must be going. Thank you kindly."  
  
The man took hold of Christine's arm as she turned to leave. She let out a stifled gasp and grew rigid with fear. She had the urge to cry out for help, but bit her tongue.  
  
"Let me walk you home, Christine." the man said. He let go of Christine and smiled broadly.  
  
"How do you know my name?" Christine asked, taking a step back.  
  
The man seemed amazed by the question. "You mean, you don't remember me?"  
  
Christine shook her head.  
  
"Do you remember, when you were only a little girl, that you lost your scarf in the ocean?" the man asked. He pulled the collar of his suit up, blocking the wind from his neck. He continued when Christine didn't answer. "There was a small boy who ran after it, still fully dressed and not bothering to listen to his mother cry out to him."  
  
Christine cocked her head to one side. "I remember that vaguely."  
  
"He went out, swimming after the scarf. . . ."  
  
"The very one I'm wearing now."  
  
"Yes! And when he returned it to you, you gave him a reward."  
  
"A kiss on the cheek. My father was very grateful to that boy! He became a playmate of mine."  
  
"And you two enjoyed listening to your father's tales and music. You taught him to sing a few songs, and he taught you how to dance."  
  
Christine laughed as she began to remember the days of her childhood. She and the boy spent hours together. They danced to her father as he played the violin and sang songs. Christine would sing with her father, and the young boy would gleefully listen for hours at a time, still cheering for more.  
  
"How do you know all of this?" Christine asked, her laughter waning.  
  
"I was that boy, Christine!"  
  
Christine gasped. "You. . . . You are. . . ."  
  
"Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny."  
  
"Oh my God!" Christine gasped, covering her mouth with her free hand. She took a step back, unsure of what do or say.  
  
Raoul let a concerned look cross his face. "Christine, is everything all right?" With a nod Christine turned and began to hurry away. "Where are you going?"  
  
Christine paused. "I have to go. I have a friend waiting for me."  
  
"Who is she? Do I know her?"  
  
"You don't know who he his. No one does." Christine replied. With a curt wave of her hand she called out a good bye and hurried back to the opera house.  
  
**********  
  
The house was alive with music when Christine entered the main room. Every candle was lit, sending odd shadows onto the wall. Ayesha was grooming herself on the couch, taking no notice as Christine walked by.  
  
As Christine placed her basket down she heard a loud crash from Erik's room. She jumped and saw Ayesha scamper into her room. Christine placed her scarf next to her basket and slowly made her way to Erik's door. Her heart skipped a beat as she heard another crash erupt from the room.  
  
"Damn it!" Erik screamed.  
  
Christine pushed the door open and was amazed with what she saw. Erik sat on his bed, his face in his hands. Sheets of music where cluttered around the floor, his violin placed on the piano. One of Erik's masks was in pieces on the floor, its porcine skin ravaged with signs of anger.  
  
"Erik?" Christine whispered, slowly stepping into the room.  
  
Without a sound Erik raised his face from his hands. The mask he wore had a large fracture through it. A line of blood clashed with the white porcelain and trickled down his bare cheek. Christine's hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. She hurried to Erik's side, not bothering to take notice of his surprised look.  
  
"Please, Christine." Erik said, trying to dodge her hands. "I'm fine."  
  
Finally Christine took hold of Erik's face. He was automatically silenced. His eyes widened as Christine's delicate fingers grazed across the broken mask and was stained with the blood. Erik tried to turn his face away, but was stopped.  
  
Christine looked into Erik's eyes. "How did this happen?"  
  
Erik's eyes looked towards the mess as he remembered. "I was trying to pull something down from my bookcase and it fell. My mask was cracked and, obviously, I was cut. Apparently the pain turned to anger and I took it out on my music."  
  
"Does it hurt?" Christine asked, trying not to apply pressure on the cracked mask.  
  
"Its dulled down. In an hour or so I wont feel a thing." Erik replied.  
  
Christine pulled a handkerchief from her belt. The cloth matched her dark blue dress perfectly. Working like a mother Christine began to wipe away the blood, trying to be as tender as possible. A soft smile crossed her lips as she watched Erik's eyes soften to the familiar look of fondness.  
  
"How was your engagement with your friend?" Christine ask, trying to break their silence.  
  
Erik blinked and held back his reoccurring anger on the subject. "Worse than I thought." he whispered. He slowly eased his way into retelling the events of the day.  
  
Slowly Christine's hands moved away from Erik's face and began to stroke his hair. Erik grew silent as she continued. His eyes closed as he felt Christine's fingers continue to move through his hair. Christine began to hum a song her father had taught her.  
  
Erik's arms slowly encircled themselves around Christine's waist and held her close. She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, her hand still running through Erik's black hair. The two sat in the embrace, seeming to be lost to the world.  
  
Without a word Erik kissed Christine's forehead. She looked up at him, her eyes locking to his. Erik smiled softly and she smiled. Her hands caressed the sides of the mask. The touch caused Erik to draw back, turning his face away.  
  
Christine stood, feeling like she had tread where she wasn't supposed to. She placed her handkerchief beside Erik and straightened her hair. "I'm going to make some soup. Would you like any?" she asked. Her voice echoed off the stone walls.  
  
Erik nodded. "Yes, please."  
  
Saying nothing else, Christine left the room closing the door behind her.  
  
A sigh escaped Erik. He stood and looked at the door. Turning his back to it, Erik's hands went to the cords that held his mask in place. Untying the cracked porcelain Erik looked at it. The blood had been wiped away, leaving nothing else.  
  
With a cry of anger Erik threw it to the wall. It shattered on contact. The porcelain fell, making tinkling sounds. Erik breathed hard, feeling anger swell inside him once more. He turned away sharply and moved over to a bedside desk.  
  
Pulling open a drawer Erik pulled out the remaining mask he owned. It was the same as the others, no difference what so ever. As he raised it to his face, Erik paused for a moment. He did have the one Akil had given to him, but it wasn't something he wished to wear around Christine. A black mask would throw everything he had worked for asunder.  
  
"Erik?"  
  
Erik froze as he heard Christine's voice. He stiffened for a moment. He could hear Christine holding her breath. With trained fingers he tied the mask, making sure it fit into place, before turning around to face Christine.  
  
"Yes?" Erik replied, his voice wavering.  
  
Christine gripped the door knob, her eyes staring at Erik with alarm. "I was wondering if you could help me in the kitchen. I don't know where anything is."  
  
Erik paused. He eyed Christine. She was startled to see Erik placing his mask on. He knew that she never would have guessed that he took his mask off. Erik needed to do something to make her feel calm once more.  
  
"Don't worry about cooking dinner." Erik said.  
  
"What?" Christine asked, taking a step into the room. She slowly regained her composure. "But I was planing on making soup."  
  
Erik smiled lightly. "Put on something nice. I am taking you out to dinner."  
  
"Out?"  
  
"Yes. I know of a beautiful restaurant where there is wonderful music and the perfect food." Erik ran a hand through his hair and approached Christine. He kissed her cheek softly. He looked and smiled as her cheeks flushed. "Accept this as an apology if I've made you scared or worried. What is your answer?"  
  
Christine smiled brightly. "Yes." 


	11. Chapter ten

Chapter ten  
  
  
  
The night was in its highest and darkest hour. The Parisian people were either home or on their way there. Erik sat, with Christine at his side, in a horse drawn carriage. The soft trotting of the horse's hooves created a soothing melody for Christine, which slowly rocked her to sleep.  
  
Erik stared out the window, his hand resting at his mouth. His eyes focused on the full moon and the spinning fall leaves that fluttered in it's silver light. In only a few months he would be a prisoner in his own home. Winter would come and, with that, the falling of the snow. Like an animal he disappeared until warmer weather beckoned him out to the world.  
  
Slowly the carriage came to a turn. Erik braced himself, not wanting to fall into the carriage's side. Christine's sleeping body came to rest against Erik's. A smile came across his face as he turned and looked at her. Erik wrapped an arm around her, his breath catching in his throat as she nestled against him.  
  
Paris's Opera house came into view. Erik smiled to himself, happy that he would soon be in the safe confines of his home. He hoped Christine would wake easily, not knowing if he could support her weight. He nudged her softly, but she didn't seem to notice it.  
  
The carriage came to a halt. Erik adjusted his hat and looked down at Christine. "Darling," he whispered, raising her face up. "we're home."  
  
Christine's eyes fluttered open. She sat up, looking around like a child. "Home?" she breathed. Her eyes turned to the window and to the opera house. Christine's eyes seemed to twinkle for a moment. "Yes, we're home."  
  
Erik blinked, unsure of how to react to what Christine had just said. The fact that Christine referred to the opera house as home astonished him. He did want Christine to love him, to be with him until death took them both, but this didn't seem just. Not wanting to worry himself, Erik pushed the words from his memory.  
  
The door opened and the driver stood to one side. Erik dipped his head down as he slipped out of the carriage. He turned, offering his gloved hand to Christine, who took it like a mechanical doll. Erik cringed at the strange happenings that had fallen over Christine. Her eyes glazed over with sleep and her mane of hair falling into her face.  
  
"Take this, and be off with you." Erik said, putting a hundred francs in his hands.  
  
The driver let an astonished look befall his old face. He closed the door with a bow and thanked Erik until it seemed like it was the only think he could say.  
  
Erik lead Christine down the street and towards the alley that lead to the door that connected his home to the outside world. Christine shivered as a wind wrapped around them both. Not bothering to ask, Erik wrapped Christine with his cloak, holding her close to him.  
  
"Are you going to be all right, Christine?" Erik asked as they came to the metal door. He pulled out his key, unlocking the ominous entrance.  
  
"The wine." Christine said with a yawn. "I've never had wine before. I guess its the cause of my strange mood. Sleep will do me good." A soft smile crossed her lips. She rested her head on Erik's shoulder. "Thank you, for everything, Erik. No one has been so kind to me, except my father."  
  
Erik didn't reply. He guided Christine down the pathway. The lake stirred against the shore, the boat knocking against the dock. Darkness had settled around Erik's home, the candles glowing dimly in the windows. He took Christine's hand once more, leading her into the house without a word.  
  
Ayesha greeted them both with a purred meow from the couch. She let out a yawn and placed her head on her paws. Her tail flickered in the air. Ayesha opened her eyes as Erik and Christine passed her. Her eyes glared at Christine, but turned away as Erik looked down at her.  
  
The papers had been cleared from Erik's room before he left. Everything was in its proper place, as if the sudden fit of anger had never happened. Christine walked dreamily to the piano as Erik began to light candles. Her fingers tapped a few notes from a Hannibal, her voice singing the words softly.  
  
"You can sleep on my bed tonight." Erik said. He turned to see Christine sitting on the piano's seat. Her head rested on the piano's key cover, her eyes slowly closing. "Christine! Wake up."  
  
Christine's eyes opened. She blinked, not wanting to get up.  
  
Erik took Christine's arm and lifted her to her feet. Her eyes closed and she went limp against Erik's body. "Don't fall asleep on me. Christine, wake up!" Erik said softly.  
  
"I'm exhausted." Christine said to no one inparticular. Her head fell back, coming to rest on Erik's chest. "Tonight was too much for me. It was wonderful." she said with a soft smile. Her hand touched Erik's cheek. "Thank you."  
  
"Hush, Christine. It would be best if you slept." Erik replied.  
  
Nearly carrying her, Erik lead Christine to his bed. She placed her arms around his neck, using Erik as an anchor. Erik sighed and brought her to one side of the bed. He began to lower her down when she went limp and caught him off balance. The two fell to the bed, Erik landing on top of Christine, but stopping himself before his face slammed into hers. His hat tumbled from his head, landing shamelessly next to Christine.  
  
Erik froze, his eyes wide with fear as he looked down at Christine. Her hands traveled from his neck to his face. Christine's fingers grazed over Erik's cheeks. Erik took hold of one of her hands, keeping himself steady with his other. Christine raised herself up, slightly, and kissed Erik lightly.  
  
Shocked Erik let go of Christine and climbed off the bed. He ran his hands nervously through his hair. He paused, watching as Christine sleepily kicked her shoes off and acted like nothing had happened. She turned so she was facing Erik and closed her eyes.  
  
Backing away Erik turned to leave the room.  
  
"Don't leave me. I don't want to be alone anymore" Erik turned to see Christine starring at him, her eyes open with a tinge of fear. "Please." she whispered.  
  
"Christine. . . ."  
  
"Erik, play me something." Christine said, her voice soft. Her eyes pleaded with Erik, showing him what she really wanted. She didn't want him to leave, she didn't want to be left alone.  
  
Without a word Erik approached the piano. His hands found his violin case and pulled out the stringed instrument. Placing it to his chin and putting the bow onto the strings, Erik began to play.  
  
The sound that came from the violin was nothing Christine had heard before. The music encircled her and urged her to sleep. Her head came to rest on Erik's pillow once more. She smiled as she watched Erik and listened to his sonata. In moments she was a sleep.  
  
Erik came to a stop and looked at his sleeping beauty. He put his violin down and pulled off his cloak. He came to Christine and placed it over her petite form. Erik bent his head to hers, kissing her cheek softly. His thin fingers grazed her lips and pushed away a strand of hair.  
  
Erik moved away from Christine and slipped towards the door. He paused for a moment as he heard her stir. He turned and looked at looked at Christine as she sighed in her sleep. Not taking any chances, Erik sang a song that seemed to come from his soul  
  
"Past the point of no return, no backward glances. The games we've played till now are at  
  
an end. Past all thought of 'if' or 'when'. No use resisting. Abandon thought, and let the dream descend. What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us?"  
  
Escaping from the room Erik fell to his knees, tears running down his cheeks. He sobbed into his hands, muffling the sounds. "I've gone too far." Erik weeped. "No one can love such a man. She doesn't love me. She loves the angel that only she sees, not the monster that stands before her. Christine, why do you do this to me? Why do you torture me like this?"  
  
"Meow."  
  
Erik raised his face from his hands as he felt something press against his side. Ayesha looked up at him, purring softly. Erik took her into his arms, caressing and kissing the feline.  
  
"Only you can truly love me and not my music." Erik whispered.  
  
Ayesha meowed in reply, her eyes closing as she purred with joy. 


	12. Chapter eleven

Chapter eleven  
  
  
  
The sound of the piano and Erik's voice brought Christine out of her sleep. Erik sat at his piano, playing a few keys before writing on his music. Christine cocked her head to one side. Her eyes fastened themselves on the strings that held Erik's mask to his face. She had never noticed them until the night before.  
  
Stretching her arms, Christine climbed from the bed. Erik's cloak slipped from her body and tumbled to the floor in silence. Christine scooped it up quickly, pausing as she smelt roses on the velvet. She smiled and placed it, lovingly, on the bed.  
  
Music poured from the piano once more. Christine turned to look at Erik, only to find her eyes focusing on the strings of his mask. She felt a sensation in her body, urging her to approach Erik and pull on those strings. She had never seen Erik without his mask and the thought of seeing him without it was pulling at her mind.  
  
Christine took a few steps towards Erik, her bare feet making no sounds as she approached her teacher in a daze. Her bare hands slowly lifted as she came to a stop behind Erik. Christine's fingers shook as they inched closer to the only thing that hid Erik's face from her. With one little tug the mask could tumble to the ground and Christine could see what her angel looks like.  
  
Suddenly Erik's hand was wrapped around Christine's wrist. He was turned in his chair so he could look at her out of the corner of his eye. Erik's eyes looked at Christine with a mixture of anger and questioning. He tightened his grip before letting go and returning to his music.  
  
"What where you going to do?" Erik asked, his fingers causing the piano to sing its wordless song.  
  
Christine let her hands come together and linger around her mouth. "I. . . I was just wondering. . . . about your mask."  
  
Erik came to an abrupt stop and sat straight with a stunned silence. He turned on the piano seat and looked up at Christine. His eyes bore into hers. Erik stood, know looking down at Christine and showing her who had more power.  
  
"Do you want to see what is behind my mask?" Erik hissed.  
  
Christine opened her mouth to answer but nothing came out.  
  
"Do you?" Erik yelled.  
  
Christine jumped with the authority in his voice. Her eyes grew wide with fear.  
  
"Tell me, Christine." Erik said, making Christine back away as he approached her. "Do you really want to know why I wear this? Can you face the truth now? Do you want to see your angel's face and meet with the fate of being banished from this sanctuary?"  
  
"I was only wondering. . . ." Christine stammered.  
  
"What?" Erik asked angrily.  
  
"Why you're wearing the mask."  
  
Erik looked down at Christine without emotion. He turned away from her sharply. "God is a cruel and vengeful master, Christine. He saw it fit that I should wear this mask so I would isolated from the rest of the world. I couldn't have contact with anyone. Not my mother or anyone who inhabits this damned world!" Erik looked at Christine, his eyes shaking as he remembered his childhood. He closed his eyes, clenching his fists in anger. "I have no chance of marrying without the woman seeing my face, and, with that alone, I have been forced to compose and live beneath the structure I've built."  
  
Christine looked at Erik with a stunned silence. She dropped her eyes like a child in trouble. "I'm sorry for asking. I didn't know. . . ."  
  
"It's alright, Christine. You don't have to apologize for anything. I've lived with this problem for my whole life, and nothing can fix this." Erik took his seat at the piano. He rustled through a few papers and held up a sheet of music. "Take this, Christine. I'm giving you ten minutes to change your clothes and read through this. You're going to have a lesson before you leave for the opera."  
  
Christine took the music and looked over this. "Hannibal? This is Carlotta's part! Why am I going to be singing this?"  
  
Erik smiled to himself. "Signora Giudicelli is going to resign from the part, Christine, and the managers will need to find a replacement. You will get the part of Elissa, Christine. This will be your moment in the lime light and I will help you take what's rightfully yours."  
  
**********  
  
"What?" Armand cried out. He looked at Firmin, who stood helpless at the side of the door. Carlotta stood at Armand's desk, dressed in her finest autumn clothes and her hands at her hips. "You can't drop from the leading role, Signora! We have two weeks before we open the opera. How are we going to find a replacement for someone as great as you?"  
  
Carlotta shrugged and frowned. "I don't know, but who ever the little wench is wont do as well as me." her voice was soft and raspy. "And when I find who did this to me, I will make sure they never work in this opera again! Never, in my career, have set pieces nearly fall on me, a dead man come inches from landing on my head, and losing my voice from a drink! If I didn't love this place I would've left by now."  
  
Firmin placed a hand on Carlotta's shoulder. "Signora, I think it is best that you go and rest. Your husband is waiting with a carriage. There is no need to worry about a thing. You, our starring soprano, will bow at the fall of the curtain, and still be paid during your absence."  
  
"Good." Carlotta said. She turned away sharply and left without another word.  
  
"Vile cow." Armand hissed. He took a seat and shook his head. "How is it that she can be the sweetest woman when on stage, but off it she's an unruly bitch?"  
  
"Armand!" Firmin scolded, closing their office door. "How can you call her that. You know damn well that Carlotta is the only vocalist that can sing up to par. Without her, our whole opera can go under. We have no one else who can sing in her place."  
  
"We'll have to hold some type of audition." Armand muttered. He rummaged through a pile of papers. "We have a list of chorus girls who could substitute for Carlotta. They've been in every practice and should be able to wing it."  
  
Firmin let out a cry of annoyance. "Wing it? How can we use a chorus girl who could wing it through the whole opera? We need someone who can learn this thing as soon as possible."  
  
Silence came over the two. Armand continued to go through papers, leaving Firmin standing with an irritated look on his face. After a few minutes he took his seat and began to go through a few legal papers.  
  
"At rehearsal we'll see who can sing in the range of Elissa." Armand said, not bothering to look at Firmin. "We can narrow it that way."  
  
Firmin gave a short nod. He paused as he looked at small note. "My lord!" he cried jumping up. Armand looked at his friend with confusion. "Armand, did you put this note on my desk?"  
  
"I haven't touched anything of yours, Firmin. Why do you ask?"  
  
"This note says that the Vicomte de Chagny is now a patron of our Opera." Firmin explained. "He is coming today to see if his money is being placed in the right place."  
  
"Oh my."  
  
"What are we going to do?"  
  
"About what?"  
  
"About getting a replacement for Carlotta, you idiot!" Firmin said with growing anger. "The Vicomte de Chagny will want to meet the leads for the opera and how can he meet the lead female roll if we don't have one."  
  
A smile came across Armand's face as he lifted the list of chorus girls from his desk. He waved it in the air and wiggled his eyebrows. Firmin rolled his eyes and snatched the paper away, hoping his friend would stop the idiocy of his ways.  
  
"How long is this going to take?" 


	13. Chapter twelve

Chapter twelve  
  
  
  
"In line, girls. I want to see the ballet from act two." Mme. Giry commanded. She banged her cane against the stage and the girls hurried into place. Each girl fell silent and into the pose for the first move. "Conductor, please began."  
  
The music began from the orchestra pit and the girls began to dance in unison. As the dance progressed Firmin and Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny appeared on the side of the stage. They watched for a moment, Raoul more interested in Christine more than any other girl.  
  
"Here we are, Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny." Firmin said with a broad smile. He motioned to the cast who were on stage. "This is our finest cast yet! Each member carefully chosen by myself, Monsieur Moncharmin, and our director Monsieur Reyer. The chorus girls are chosen by Madame Giry, our ballet and box mistress."  
  
Raoul nodded. "I see. This seems very good. I am happy that my money is helping such a wonderful place. I was wondering though, may I speak with. . . ."  
  
Before Raoul could answer a blonde ballet girl bumped into him. Catching the Vicomte off guard, he fell to the ground, nearly bringing Firmin with him. The girl stopped and turned to see what had happened. On surveying the accident she glared at Raoul.  
  
"You beast!" she cried. "You should watch where you stand! Have you no courtesy as to stand to the side so you wont be in the way?"  
  
Raoul opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted once again.  
  
"Pompous snob!" The girl spat at Raoul's shoes. "All of you are the same! If I wasn't a member of this opera I would take the right as to slapping you!"  
  
"Mademoiselle Hughes!" Mme. Giry called, stomping her cane once again. The ballet girls stopped and turned to look at their friend, who had finally fallen silent. "What are you doing? Do you have no manners? In line, now."  
  
"This man didn't have the kindness to move to one side, Mme. Giry. As I was concentrating on my movements, I ran into him and fell out of place." There was a tinge of sarcasm in the young girl's voice as she spoke.  
  
Mme. Giry looked at Raoul and Firmin. "Please, Monsieur, stand to one side. I will not have my girls' progress ruined by the two of you." She cleared her throat. "In line once again and start from the beginning." With that the young blonde hurried to her friends.  
  
"Our apologies, Mme. Giry." Firmin said with a slight bow. He lead Raoul off stage, shaking his head with disapproval. "I must beg your pardon, Monsieur le Chagny. Mme. Giry is always like that, but for a chorus girl to act out is strange. I will see to it that the young girl is let go from our business."  
  
Raoul shook his head and smiled. "Do nothing of the sort. I was in the way, after all. I was just amazed at what you and Monsieur Moncharmin have done with everything. The dancing is beautiful and the music has been the best I've heard." He paused. "But I was wondering who the leads of Hannibal are."  
  
"Signor Piangi and Mademoiselle Daae." Armand said as he ran up to the two. "I am sorry that I'm late. I had some things to tend to in our office."  
  
"Mademoiselle Daae is playing Elissa." Raoul said, mostly to himself. He smiled. "I thought it would have been Signora Giudicelli. She has been the lead for several operas. This will be a surprising change! Is Mademoiselle Daae any good?"  
  
"Yes!" both managers said, growing nervous.  
  
Armand cleared his throat. "She is our rising star! With training she could be the best!"  
  
"After Carlotta!" Firmin added.  
  
Armand nodded. "Of course!"  
  
Raoul smiled. "Well, I would like to see which boxes are open for the next opera. My brother and I would love to see this performance." They began to walk away. "I hope there are seats available. Its short notice so I wouldn't be surprised our seats are farther than we had hoped."  
  
Firmin shook his head. "Nonsense! Why don't you and your brother sit in our box, with us. We would love to have you with us."  
  
"I couldn't." Raoul began.  
  
"As our newest patron, it would be our honor as to have you with us." Armand said quickly. He opened a door that lead to a hall. "There is no need to worry."  
  
**********  
  
Rehearsal had finally finished and Christine made her way to her dressing room. The other chorus members had nearly mobbed her once Mme. Giry had dismissed them. Questions of why Raoul was starring at her and how she got the part of Elissa had plagued her until Meg shoed them away. With a reassuring smile Meg wished her luck and good night.  
  
Christine smiled to herself. She knew Erik would be so proud. It was just like he had said, Carlotta would resign and she would take her role. Christine was in heaven. It would be her first role, but she only had a limited amount of time to memorize the songs and Elissa's dancing.  
  
"I'm proud of you."  
  
A smile crossed Christine's face. "Er-. . . ." She stopped in the middle of Erik's name when she turned to see who it was. Raoul stood in front of her, a bouquet of white roses in his hands. His blonde hair was brushed back and he wore a simple suit.  
  
"Raoul! What a surprise." Christine said, smiling despite herself.  
  
"I'm happy that you have the leading role. Your father would be so proud right now. I am too." Raoul held out the flowers. Christine looked at them and smiled. "These are for you, Christine. Its a present as a congratulation."  
  
Christine let a look of surprise spread across her face. She took the flowers and smelt one of the flowers. "Thank you, Raoul. They're wonderful."  
  
Raoul took a step towards Christine. "I knew you would like them. You always did." He paused, as if he was listening to his own echo. "Christine, would you like to join me for dinner. My brother would be delighted to see you after so long."  
  
"Dinner?" Christine asked, stunned at the offer.  
  
"I can give you some time to get ready. I'll have my driver come around." Raoul said with a smile of joy.  
  
"I can't go to dinner." Christine said, stopping Raoul in his tracks. "Not tonight."  
  
Raoul turned and looked at Christine, a bit confused. "Why not?"  
  
"I have a previous engagement. I can't break it." Christine replied.  
  
"With who?"  
  
"My vocal instructor, Raoul. He wouldn't be happy if I left like this. I have strict rules I must abide by and I can't skip a night of his teachings."  
  
"Christine, please. We haven't seen each other for so long." Raoul explained. His eyes pleaded with her. "We have so much to talk about. You can leave him for one night. He wont miss you, Christine. Its just one, simple dinner. I wont keep you out for long."  
  
"I'm sorry, but I can't. Good night." Christine turned away and escaped to her room before Raoul could respond. She locked the door quickly and placed the flowers on her vanity table. She smiled at them but frowned when she heard Raoul's voice outside her door. "Please, Raoul. I cannot be bothered. I will speak with some other time."  
  
There were a few more minutes of Raoul trying to coax Christine from her room, but he soon gave up. Christine felt relief wash over her. She took her brush and ran it through her hair, her eyes slowly turning to the white roses. Christine smiled at them and touched their velvet petals with her fingers.  
  
"Who was he?"  
  
Christine nearly dropped her brush when she heard Erik's voice. She stood, expecting her angel to be beside her, but he was no where to be seen. She turned a few times, hoping that her minds were playing tricks on her. Erik wasn't in her room.  
  
"Where are you?" Christine asked.  
  
"I am every where Christine. Don't you remember that I told you it would be like this?" Erik's voice seemed to come from every corner of the room. "Now, who was that man?"  
  
Christine settled onto her bed, her eyes looking around the room. "His name is Raoul. He was a childhood friend of mine. We haven't seen each other for years." she explained. For a moment she felt like Erik was her father asking her who had broken her mother's vase.  
  
"And you turned down his invitation to dinner?" Erik asked.  
  
"Yes." Christine replied meekly.  
  
"You have done well, my dear." Erik whispered.  
  
For a moment Christine could've sworn she felt Erik's gloved hands come across her cheeks. Her hands touched her face, but felt only her shin. She wanted to see him, to be with him. She wanted Erik to touch her face and to kiss her. Christine wanted to be in that happiness that seemed to come only when Erik was beside her.  
  
"When will I be with you again?" Christine asked.  
  
Silence settled over the room. Christine lowered her eyes, believing that Erik had disappeared. She began to wonder if she had asked too many questions. Than she knew he still had to be mad about her trying to take his mask.  
  
"In two weeks, Christine. That's when you will return to me." Erik suddenly said. "We will continue our lessons like this. This will prepare you for the role Elissa."  
  
"How?" Christine asked.  
  
Erik chuckled. "I wont be on stage with you, my dear. I will be in my box, watching you. So I can't be there helping you with your songs."  
  
Christine smiled. "You're going to watch me?"  
  
"Of course! I wouldn't miss seeing you for the world."  
  
"Thank you." Christine replied, her cheeks flushing.  
  
"Now, then. Lets begin with Elissa's first entrance. On your feet, Christine. I want you to go through her movements. You will be the best Elissa." 


	14. Chapter thirteen

Chapter thirteen  
  
  
  
Two days had passed since Erik had seen Christine face to face. He slipped back into his life before she had entered his home. Ayesha spent the days wandering the opera house when Erik would let her and Erik began to compose his opera. Sleepless nights were spent at his piano, playing the haunting songs that managed to spring forth from his mind.  
  
Erik continued to wander the opera house, slipping into the shadows when the chorus girls began to scream. Box five was his only sanctuary in the opera, besides his home. Mme. Giry always seemed to know when he was there and brought whatever he wished without question. She only wanted him to be comfortable after sensing a tension growing inside him.  
  
Christine was taking well to the sudden rush from chorus girl to the lead of her first opera. Her friends still fluttered around her, praising their friend with joy. Carlotta, though, had taken this like a blow to her ego. She continued to banter the young starlet whenever she thought Christine missed a note or messed up a dance. Erik took it upon himself, though, to make sure Carlotta would never do such a thing again.  
  
Erik sat at his piano playing one of his finished concertos. He could hear the music from the stage and the voice of the opera's lead male, Piangi, straining to hit a few notes. Erik paused and looked towards the ceiling. His eyes narrowed and he muttered to himself.  
  
Ayesha strutted into the room, her tail fluttering in the air. She looked at Erik and meowed sleepily. Erik looked at her and smiled. He pushed the piano chair out and patted his lap. With a purr Ayesha jogged over to her master and jumped into his lap.  
  
"Where have you been all day?" Erik asked, scratching the feline's ear.  
  
A purr was Erik's only answer.  
  
"Do you mind a quick walk? I have something I must deliver to Christine." Erik said, placing the cat on the floor. Ayesha gave him a questioning look as he walked to his desk. "Its just a note, my dear. I can't be with her tonight. My opera needs to be tended to before I continue with anything else." He grabbed a piece of paper that already had the note written. He looked at it and gave a heavy sigh.  
  
Erik began his journey through the labyrinth he had created when the opera was being built. A security percussion on his part. He didn't want to have guests and is still rather tentative to who knows where he is. The labyrinth was only one of the traps set for unwanted guest. If they happened to get through this maze they would be faced with two doors; one leading to the lake and the other to a room where no one can leave.  
  
The sound of the lake echoed even through the stone labyrinth. Erik held a lantern in one hand and his note clasped in the other. His foot falls were near silent and the bell on Ayesha's collar sounded with every movement. He looked down at the Siamese cat as she sniffed at the walls, trying to get a familiar sent. When she found approval she would run to Erik's side and try to keep up with him.  
  
Finally, after what felt like half an hour, Erik came to a stop. A floor length mirror stood before him, one of his many doorways into the opera. This door, though, was different in so many ways. It was camouflaged in such a way that it looked and seemed like an actual mirror. With a touch of a button he could move through the door and into the room. . . . Christine's room.  
  
Placing the lantern on a hook, Erik's gloved finger pressed the simple mechanism. Without a sound the glass shifted, unlocking from its place. With a simple push the glass turned and Christine's room was open to Erik.  
  
"Ayesha," Erik whispered, looking down at his companion. "stay here. I will only be a second."  
  
The cat meowed in reply. She sat, her eyes fixating on Christine's room.  
  
With incredible ease Erik slipped past the mirror and into the room. Despite the darkness Erik managed to move past everything. His feet always seemed to fall only inches away from anything and everything that would be obvious if moved.  
  
Coming to the vanity table, Erik pulled out a match and lit a candle. The darkness fled from the mahogany wood, leaving only Christine's belongings. Make up, brushes, and hair pieces were scattered about the desk from an obvious hurry. Something, though, caught Erik's attention.  
  
A piece of paper was set off to one side, nothing cluttering its place. Erik placed his letter between the vanity mirror and it's base, his hand quickly coming down on the paper. He unfolded it carefully, as if it was a snake ready to strike. His brown eyes quickly looked down at the signature and he frowned. It was from Raoul.  
  
Christine,  
  
I was wondering if you would join me for dinner tonight? Just the two of us. Ever since the day you received the lead you have been strangely cold towards me. If you are nice to me for only tonight, I will be happy. I just want to see you.  
  
Raoul  
  
Erik cursed beneath his breath and crushed the paper in his hand. He looked at it, his eyes filled with anger. Throwing the paper tot he wall he turned, sharply, to the mirror. It wasn't Christine Erik was angry with, it was Raoul. He was beginning to interfere with their relationship. The aristocrat wouldn't give up until Christine gave in, and that could become a very unfortunate mistake.  
  
**********  
  
Christine had agreed to Raoul's advances when he arrived at her dressing room. The note had been going through her mind all day, and she had already planned her escape; she had lessons. She always had lessons. Christine couldn't leave without telling her instructor a few days before. This time, though, it was different. Erik had canceled her lesson and Christine couldn't lie.  
  
The night had been spent in a restaurant Raoul frequented in the fall and winter seasons. He treated Christine as if she was royalty. She enjoyed it and after a few hours her mind slipped away from Erik. The memories of childhood joy came back and Raoul was beginning to seem more like the boy she had befriended those many years before.  
  
Raoul insisted on walking instead of taking a carriage. The night was uncommonly warm for the fall and proved to be beautiful. The crescent moon hung in the sky, with the stars twinkling around it. A few wisps of gray clouds drifted through the sky and a flock of birds flew by.  
  
"Thank you for a lovely night, Raoul." Christine said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked at Raoul, who smiled. Christine smiled, quickly turning her face away. "Why did you keep insisting I go to dinner with you? Most men would give up hope after being rejected so many times."  
  
"I wanted to talk with you, Christine." Raoul explained. "You were the first playmate that I had and after our families parted ways I've wanted to see you again. The times we spent with each other are priceless to me. When I found out you were a member of the Paris Opera House, I knew this was my chance to see you again. Dinner was just the first step to rekindling the friendship we had."  
  
Christine blushed and laughed nervously. She looked at Raoul, a smile across her face. Raoul smiled back. The two continued their walk down the street in a strange silence. Christine couldn't reply to what Raoul had said. He wanted to see her, even after the many years of separation. Their friendship was something he kept dear to him, but Christine had nearly forgotten it. She felt ashamed, but happy to remember it with him.  
  
Raoul cleared his throat. "I'd like to see you again, Christine." He looked at Christine, hoping to see an answer in her eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed and a soft smile was still dancing across her lips. "I could take you to dinner again. Maybe a play or dancing afterward. I just want to learn what has happened to you. I want to know if there is any room in your life for me."  
  
"Oh!" Christine gasped, coming to a stop. Raoul turned and looked at her. "I would love to see you again, Raoul. Dinner and a play sounds wonderful. We have so much to catch up on and. . . ."  
  
"To see if we can be together." Raoul said, cutting Christine off.  
  
Christine couldn't reply to this. For a moment she was silent, staring at Raoul's face. "Raoul, you don't know what your asking. We've seen each other for only three days. Tonight is the most time we've spent with each other. I can't answer a question like that."  
  
"I understand." Raoul said. He took a step towards Christine. He removed his hat, letting the lamp light shine on his blonde hair. "You mean the world to me, Christine, and I don't want to let you go again. Just keep it in mind. The answer will come to you in time and I want to know what it is."  
  
"I need to tell you something." Christine said quickly. Her mind tumbled back to thoughts of Erik. She had forgotten him the whole night and now she felt sick to her stomach. She couldn't believe she had done such a thing.  
  
Raoul took Christine's face into his hands. Her heart skipped a beat as he leaned closer to her. Christine's eyes stared at him in amazement and turned away. She couldn't believe this was happening to her. Raoul, a high aristocrat, coming after a young chorus girl in a lower social class. A few weeks ago this would have been a dream come true, but this felt wrong.  
  
Then Christine's heart nearly stopped. Her gaze fell upon Erik as he stood in the shadows of an alley. Ayesha was at his feet, starring at her with anger filled eyes. Christine finally noticed that Erik wasn't looking at her, but at Raoul. His eyes were burning through Raoul with a hatred Christine hadn't seen before.  
  
Erik's hand seemed to disappear beneath his cloak. As it reappeared a rope was in his grasp. Christine saw his eyes glaze over and his gloved hands tense as he pulled his arm back. Erik's eyes turned to Christine and he seemed somewhat shaken. The raw, human anger, though, still danced wildly in his eyes.  
  
Christine let out a stifled gasp and pulled away from Raoul. Her eyes turned to him, noticing the shock on his face. Christine turned to the alley. Erik was gone. Could it have been her imagination? No. she knew Erik was there. That look in his eyes had scared her. It seemed like he wanted to kill Raoul. He had been so close, too. That rope, it was a lasso. Erik would have strangled him to death.  
  
"Are you all right?" Raoul asked, taking Christine's hand.  
  
"No!" Christine cried, pulling away from Raoul again. She clutched her hand to her chest, breathing hard. "I'm fine. I'm sorry. I. . . . I just need to get home."  
  
Raoul put his hat on, looking at Christine with deep concern. "You're as white as a sheet! Are you feeling well?"  
  
Christine nodded. "I feel fine. All I need is some sleep. Just take me home. Please, Raoul." 


	15. Chapter fourteen

Chapter fourteen  
  
  
  
The two weeks seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. Christine didn't notice a change in Erik when he practices went on. There was no mention of the night with Raoul. She began to think that she had just imagined Erik was there. She could only hope she was right.  
  
The night of the performance seemed like a dream. Christine sang from the depths her soul. Erik didn't appear in his box, causing Christine only worry. Raoul, though, was in the manager's box, praising her with every applaud.  
  
As the curtain fell from the final bow Christine suddenly collapsed. Stage hands came to her aide, pushing everyone aside. They brought her to her dressing room, placing her on the couch. On the commands of Mme. Giry Christine was left alone.  
  
"Christine."  
  
A hand grazed Christine's cheek. She stirred as she heard her name whispered once more. Her eyes opened, slowly. She hoped she would be greeted by Erik's face, but there was no one. Even the voice she had just heard seemed like it was in her mind.  
  
Christine sat up, her hair tumbling down her shoulders. She looked at her vanity and smiled. A bouquet of white roses sat in a vase next to the mirror. She took the letter from its petals and sighed. They were from Raoul. He commented on her wonderful performance and told her to meet him outside. He was going to treat her to a dinner with the managers.  
  
Putting the letter down Christine slipped a sheer white robe over her costume. She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. Beads of sweat were forming on her temples. Christine wiped them away and began to wonder what she was going to do with Raoul.  
  
"Insolent boy! How dare he try and take you away! Basking in the glory which is truly yours. And now, your suitor is taking the triumph away from me! Speaking to the press as if he was the one to teach you to sing."  
  
Christine nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the anger in Erik's voice. She looked around, standing. Silence settled around her, causing Christine to shake in fear. Erik was there that night she had spent with Raoul. Christine had no reason to doubt it now.  
  
"Do you deny the fact that I am the one that showed you kindness before that simpleton ever arrived? Will you now leave me for that ignorant fool?" Erik spat. "Do you wish me to leave?"  
  
"No!" Christine said suddenly. "Please don't leave me, Erik. I have never thought of leaving you. You were the only one to believe I could do this. I was weak when Raoul made his advances. You are the only one I want to see."  
  
Christine's hands came to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. Erik was gone. She broke her promise. She left him and now Erik left her. Christine sat and placed her face in her hands. A sob escaped her. She alone.  
  
"Don't cry." Erik whispered.  
  
Christine's eyes flew open as she felt a gloved hand pulling her hands away from her face.  
  
Erik was kneeling before her, his face soft with a sense of remorse. He kissed her hand and began to wipe away her tears with a handkerchief. Christine sniffled and smiled as Erik continued the simple task, still hold her hand in his.  
  
There was a sudden knock at the door. Erik stood, letting go of Christine's hand. She turned in the seat, starring at the door. The knock came again, this time followed with hushed whispered. She looked at Erik who was standing near the floor length mirror.  
  
"Christine, are you ready?" It was Raoul.  
  
"Go if you want." Erik said bitterly. "Your shallow suitor awaits you."  
  
Christine turned swiftly, looking at Erik. He scowled, muttering to himself. She had to make a choice and she had to choose quick. Could she cause pain for Erik, and herself, by going to Raoul?  
  
"Take me away from here." Christine pleaded. Her eyes locked into his. "Please. He wants too much from me."  
  
"Say nothing of what you see and don't speak until we are far from your room." Erik said quickly.  
  
Erik smiled with his obvious triumph. He took Christine's hand into his, his eyes studying her for a brief moment. Erik pushed a hidden button on the mirror's frame. He paused as he heard Raoul's voice call for Christine again. Erik pushed on the mirror and helped Christine through. He followed quickly, shutting the mirror silently.  
  
**********  
  
The house didn't seem to have changed much. Christine's room was the same as she had left it, Ayesha sleeping at the foot of the bed. The candles were lit and a fire burning in the fireplace. The smell of roses seemed to haunt every room.  
  
"I'm happy you've returned." Erik said, breaking the silence that had been upon them since they left Christine's dressing room. He removed his cloak, placing it on the coat rack. He watched as Christine play with the strings of her robe. "That costume must be uncomfortable. You may change is you want. All your clothes are in the armoire."  
  
Christine excused herself and dashed to her room. She closed the door softly and fell onto her bed. Ayesha stirred, but paid no attention. Christine buried her face into the pillow and let out a heavy sigh. She didn't know what she was doing. Raoul was there for her. He was going to take her out and, more than likely, going to ask if she had her answer. Erik, though, asked for nothing. Yet his eyes seemed to ask for nothing more than her presence in his home.  
  
After minutes of starring at the door across from her bed, Christine moved to the armoire. She opened the mahogany doors and a smile crossed her face. A pair of new dresses hung with the five she had left. Christine pulled out the soft blue dress and held it up to her body. It seemed perfect. Without another thought she changed into it, slipping on the shoes that went with it.  
  
When Christine emerged from her room she found Erik sitting on couch. A glass of wine was in his left hand, which he moved slowly to stir the red drink. His hand came to rest under his chin, his elbow resting on the couch's arm. Erik's eyes stared into the flames, his face vacant of any emotion.  
  
Christine took a seat, fixing her dress nervously. She looked at Erik out of the corner of her eye. He hadn't moved. Christine grew uneasy and turned her eyes to the fire. She couldn't find a single word to say.  
  
"You sang wonderfully." Erik said, suddenly breaking the silence.  
  
A smile came across Christine's face. "Thank you. I'm happy that you enjoyed the performance." She glanced at Erik. He still hadn't move. "I wish I could have seen you. I was looking for every time I was on stage."  
  
Erik suddenly stood and moved towards the fire place. Christine watched him in silence. He took a taste of the wine as he came to a stop. His back was towards Christine for a moment. He muttered something before he turned to look at Christine.  
  
"I believe you had a nice night with Raoul." Erik said.  
  
Christine felt her whole body tremble. She opened her mouth to reply but she couldn't speak. Her hands shook uncontrollably, but she buried them into the cloth of her skirt.  
  
Erik's finger tapped against the wine glass' base. "Dinner and a play sounds wonderful. You would love to see him again. To spend your whole damned life with that lowly creature of a man." Erik's voice was growing in volume and anger. He suddenly threw his glass into the fire. The flames roared and jumped. "Did you forget about me, Christine? Did you? Or do I pale in comparison when it comes to your childhood friend?"  
  
"I. . . . I thought of you. . . ." Christine struggled for an answer. She stood, her hand pushing a lock of hair from her eyes.  
  
"You only thought of me when you saw me." Erik yelled. He began to walk towards her. "I didn't cross your mind when Raoul had you in his arms. What would have happened if I wasn't there? Would you two have kissed? Then what? Maybe you wouldn't have even waited for me after reading your suitor's letter."  
  
"Erik, please. It wasn't what you thought." Christine managed to say.  
  
By now Erik had advanced upon Christine. Her eyes stared at him with horror now. He wasn't the man she had seen in her dressing room. This was the creature she had seen when she was with Raoul. Erik's temper was always hidden from her, but now it was in full flare.  
  
"It's not what I think?" Erik said dryly. He took hold of Christine's wrist and wrenched her towards him. "What is it than? Is that image, that is burned into my memory, of you and Raoul nearly kissing just my imagination? No!"  
  
With a cry of anger Erik suddenly heaved Christine down onto the couch. She let out a cry of surprise. Erik looked down at her with anger. He turned away from her coldly. Silence fell around them once more.  
  
Erik lifted a trembling hand to his face. His body shook for a moment. "My God." he whispered. He turned, slowly, and looked down at Christine. She hadn't moved. Tears were welling up in her eyes. Erik turned away and began a hurried walk to his room. His door slammed shut.  
  
Christine closed her eyes tight and shook with fear. She didn't know what had happened. Her heart ached. Erik had told her what he saw, and it was clear to her. Without even knowing, Christine had nearly broken the unspoken love between them.  
  
**********  
  
Erik sat at his piano, starring at his music. He had been shut in his room for nearly an hour. There was no sound from the other side of his door. Erik began to wonder if Christine had left. He wondered if she would. He never kept her there against her will, plus she had the key that lead to the streets. She could leave whenever she wanted.  
  
The events still played in Erik's mind as he began to play a song. His jealousy had taken hold of him and he showed Christine the side of him that he wanted to forget. He had yelled at her, accused her of wanting to leave a relationship that never existed. Erik's violent ways caused him to throw Christine to the couch, an action he thought as horrible as murder. Abuse towards a woman was hideous in every sense of the word.  
  
A soft knock interrupted Erik's thoughts and music. He stopped and looked at the door. "Come in." he said, turning his gaze back to his music.  
  
Christine stepped into the room, a tray in her hands. She moved to the side of Erik's bed and placed the tray on the bedside table. She rearranged a few things and turned to see Erik looking at her. Christine smiled softly, but Erik turned away.  
  
"I didn't know if you were hungry, so I brought you some fruit and chicken. I hope you like it." Christine said. She began to leave, her head bowed.  
  
"Wait."  
  
The single word caused Christine to stop in mid-step. She looked at Erik. He stood, smoothing his hair. His eyes averted hers. Christine lowered her eyes, unsure of what to do or to say.  
  
"I apologize if I frightened you, Christine. I never intended to hurt you." Erik said softly. He looked at Christine. "I didn't mean anything I had said. My anger has a tendency to cloud my mind."  
  
Christine shook her head. "Everything is forgiven. Enjoy your dinner." She turned away and began to move towards the door.  
  
"You know I never force you to stay here." Erik explained. Christine turned and looked at Erik in wonder. "I never said you couldn't leave. You have the key, so you can go as you please. I don't want you to believe you're a prisoner here. All I want is you to be happy."  
  
"I love it here, Erik." Christine replied. She walked over to Erik. "This place is like a dream. I would never leave unless I truly had to. . . . or if you told me I had to leave. Do you? Do you want me to leave?"  
  
"No. I want you to stay here, with me. Will you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Erik touched Christine's cheek, nearly amazed that she didn't recoil at his touch. He leaned his face to hers and kissed her softly. Christine returned it, her hand grazing Erik's cheek.  
  
Still in their embrace, the two moved, unconsciously, to Erik's bed. Erik's hands held Christine close to him as he continued to kiss her. Her hands took his and began to pull the gloves away. The two fell to his bed, feeding off each other's kisses.  
  
Erik pulled away, his eyes staring into Christine's. He was growing unsure of what was happening. He had never been with a woman before, and he only began to wonder if Christine was only doing this to please him.  
  
"What's wrong?" Christine asked.  
  
"I just don't think this is right." Erik whispered. He looked down at her, his hands caressing her face. "This is something that we can never change."  
  
Christine nodded, her eyes starring loving into Erik's. "I know."  
  
"Is this what you want?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Erik smiled and Christine returned it. The two fell into another kiss, the sheets entangling around them. Soon they became lost within each other and the love that they couldn't speak manifested itself. 


	16. Chapter fifteen

Chapter fifteen  
  
  
  
Christine woke with a start. She sat up right, her curls falling into her face. Her heart raced within her chest and she breathed hard. Her eyes looked down at herself and at the under clothes she wore. Christine looked at the space beside her. It was empty, but the blankets had been thrown to one side, showing that someone had left.  
  
"Oh my God." Christine whispered, half in fear.  
  
Memories of the night before began to spring to life. Erik had yelled at her about Raoul, and in a moment of remorse she had entered Erik's room with dinner. A seemingly naiveté conversation had turned towards a frenzy of kisses. That only led to them in bed, loving each other in a way she didn't want to imagine.  
  
Christine shook with remorse. She couldn't believe what had been done. Sex before marriage was something she had promised not to do. She did have feelings for Erik and she now knew that he returned those feelings, but could they marry each other?  
  
The door to Erik's room opened slowly. Christine let out a gasp and drew the covers to hide herself. To her relief all who entered was Ayesha. The cat jumped to the bed and rubbed her body against Christine's covered knee. Christine smiled and petted the feline.  
  
"Ayesha!"  
  
Erik suddenly appeared in the doorway. He froze, his eyes on Christine, still covering herself with the blankets. She stopped petting Ayesha and returned the silent gaze that Erik was giving. He was dressed as he had been before the two had fallen into bed. It seemed liked nothing had happened.  
  
"I'm sorry." Erik said quickly. He began to walk towards the bed. "I didn't want Ayesha to get in to the room. I knew she'd wake you."  
  
Christine gave a faint smile and pet the cat again. "There is no need to worry. I was already awake when she came in." She looked up at Erik, stunned that he was right before her. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other. "Do you know what time it is?"  
  
Erik gave a short nod. "It is a little after four o'clock."  
  
"Four? In the morning?" Christine asked with amazement.  
  
"Yes." Erik laughed. He picked Ayesha up and began to stroke her with a gloved hand. "I've been awake for an hour now. The opera house is silent and heavenly at this hour." He smiled sweetly as he began to reminisce. "It's a beautiful place to be."  
  
Christine smiled and began to think of it herself. The opera house was lovely when it was full of people and music. Could it hold the same majesty at night, when everyone is gone? She knew it would. The opera house was beautiful no matter what.  
  
"What is the next opera you will perform?" Erik asked as he slowly approached his piano. Ayesha purred happily. His free hand rummaged through a pile of scores.  
  
Christine paused. "I believe its Il Muto."  
  
Erik smiled. "Would you like to have the lead, Christine?" There was a moment of silence and Christine averted her eyes from Erik's. He knew what she was thinking. "Have you ever been to the roof?" Erik asked, breaking through Christine's thoughts.  
  
"No I haven't." Christine replied. She looked at Erik and rested her chin on her upraised knees. "Why do you ask?"  
  
Erik smiled sweetly and placed Ayesha on the floor. He stood and ran hand through his hair. "Get dressed in something warm. It's cold outside."  
  
**********  
  
The city of Paris seemed to open up before Christine as Erik lead her to the edge of the roof top. Lights flickered in the windows of shops and homes. A few people walked down the street, most of them finally managing to leave the local taverns. The Seine and the Notre Dame Cathedral were seen clearly from their position. Each view more lovely than the last.  
  
A cold wind danced across the rooftops of the city. Christine pulled her shawl and cloak close to her body. She peered over the roof's ledge and down at the street. Things looked beautiful, just like Erik had said when they made their way up the stairs. Even as they climbed the flight of stairs, the cold air slithered through the door and chilled her.  
  
Christine looked at Erik, who was leaning against the roof's edge. His eyes were soft and half closed as he looked down at the city. A sense of sadness echoed in his brown eyes. The musician was drifting in and out of memories of his life.  
  
"I watched the world go by from up here." Erik said softly. He blinked but didn't move his eyes. "I've watched children grow and couples marry. Their live unveiled before my watchful eyes. The music of Notre Dame echoing through the air and the singing of the choirs filling my ears. Children used to run through the streets, laughing and playing their games. They've grown and left for better places. I've seen funerals and murders, births and marriages. Nothing escapes me from here."  
  
Christine listened as Erik slowly told her the tale of how the opera house came to be. He drew the plans and helped build the structure. From the beginning he intended it to be his final home and fixed it with a lavish house that was at the banks of the river running beneath it. Every trap door and hidden stairway was made for his use. He created the labyrinth from Christine's dressing room before the opera house was near finished. Erik had plans to keep the room empty, but when Christine graced the room with her light and voice, that wish was nothing more than a memory.  
  
"How old were you when you came up with the plans for the opera house?" Christine inquired.  
  
Erik smiled and looked down at his hands. "I was young. My age escapes me, though. I have friend that could tell me, but I wish to leave him be." His eyes turned skyward and he took in a deep breath. "I never wanted to leave the opera house. I planed on living and dying here, unknown as Erik but known as the phantom. My dear friend would bury my body when I died and take me finished or unfinished opera and see that it's burned."  
  
"You didn't want any human contact besides that of your friend?" Christine said in a startled voice. She gazed at Erik, feeling sorry for him. She thought he was strong and lived in the solitude so he could live and compose music happily. Now it seemed that his music was burden and the solitude was nothing more than a penalty for his creation.  
  
"No." Erik whispered. He looked at Christine and gave a weary smile. "In my life, human contact has only brought heart break and anger. Nothing good has become of any relationship. Even my relationship with my mother turned to heartache."  
  
Christine lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry."  
  
Erik turned away from the roof's ledge and began to walk away. "You have no need to be, Christine. You've been brought into my life by a chance of fate." He paused and suddenly turned around and looked at Christine. She was looking at him with a sorrowful look. "Christine, you've shown me that there is light in my dark life. Without you I would be locked away in my home, thinking about nothing except the opera that is slowly killing me."  
  
Slowly Erik walked back to Christine. He stroked her cheek with his fingers and gazed lovingly down at her. "My life has changed drastically since I've first laid eyes on you. I've never felt this much compassion towards anyone. My jealousy has become violent if I see you with another man, because of my feelings for you." Erik grew silent. He took Christine's hands into his and kissed them. Their eyes met. "Christine, tell my that you love me."  
  
Christine's eyes widened in amazement as those words escaped Erik's lips. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest and she felt her body begin to shake. Uncontrollably she pulled away, tears welling up in her eyes. Christine brought her hands to her face and turned, trying to hide her tears.  
  
"Christine?" Erik whispered, placing a hand on Christine's shoulder. To his amazement Christine spun around and threw her arms around Erik. She sobbed into his chest, finally letting her tears show to her companion. "Oh Christine." he murmured. He stroked her hair softly. "Please, don't cry. All I ask for an answer, and nothing more than what you truly feel."  
  
With a heavy sigh Christine raised her face and looked into Erik's eyes. She opened her to speak but there was a loud crash that interrupted her. Erik turned away and eyed the door. Two voices erupted from behind the door, yelling a slew of words at each other. Erik took Christine by the hand and motioned her to be silent. They hurried off into the fading shadows.  
  
The door swung open with crash. Armand and Firmin suddenly bolted from the door and onto the roof. They both paused and a stunned and confused look crossed their faces. Both whispered to each other and cursed beneath their breaths.  
  
"Are you sure you saw two people come up here?" Armand asked?  
  
Firmin nodded. "I'm positive, Armand. A man and a woman came up here. I saw it with my own two eyes and it was as clear as day!"  
  
Armand mumbled angrily to himself and looked over the roof's edge. "They must've left by now. If you would've gotten to me sooner we could have found them." He rounded on Firmin who was looking around. "That man you saw could've been our ghost. We could have finally found him and put a stop to his little charade."  
  
Erik narrowed his eyes angrily.  
  
"It seems like there was no one up here." Firmin said. "Damn it all. We've come up here for nothing."  
  
Armand sighed and moved towards the door. "Come on. We better get back to the office. We still have some work to do. I swear, if I ever see that ghost. . . ." Firmin followed Armand as he continued to complain.  
  
Christine and Erik slowly came out of hiding. The two looked at each other, unsure of what to do.  
  
"I think it's best that you go, Christine." Erik said softly. His heart sank as he remembered the unanswered question that he spoke to Christine. He pushed it from his mind, not wanting to suffer anymore. "I cannot keep you from you work, and I must do some of my own. I bid you good bye." He kissed her cheek softly and seemed to disappear into the darkness, leaving Christine to wonder about her true feelings towards her tutor and angel. 


	17. Chapter sixteen

Chapter sixteen  
  
  
  
"A perfect performance on the part of the young Christine Daae?!" Firmin gasped. He dropped the letter and picked up the next. "A beautiful opera. It is wonderful to see a change in the leading role? My God, who are these people? If Carlotta gets wind of this we'll never hear the end of it."  
  
Armand raised his eyes from the note he was reading. "True, true. But it seems I've received an interesting note from our opera ghost."  
  
"You too?" Firmin said, holding up his own note. He motioned for Armand to continue as he sat down behind his desk.  
  
Clearing his throat Armand began to read aloud. "Dear Armand, the gala last night was a perfect success! Christine sang wonderfully as Elissa and we, the audience, were happy with the strange disappearance of your past star, Carlotta. The chorus was wonderful as well, but I wish that you tell Mme. Giry to be stricter with her dancers. They all need work."  
  
Taking the cue of the end, Firmin began to read his own letter aloud. "Monsieur Firmin, this letter is just a reminder to you and your partner Armand. My salary has not been paid this month, and I will not be happy it if late again. Please send it, as you always have, and you shall be in good health. Remember, my friend, no one likes a debtor."  
  
Silence settled in the office. The manager looked at each other, their eyes scanning their notes again. Armand leaned back in his chair, and trailed his finger across the paper. Firmin shook his head and crumpled the note.  
  
"This is beginning to get old and humorless, Armand." Firmin sighed. He stood, stretching his arms. "This ghost of ours is requesting money and abusing the position that we hold. Then he writes us letter, saying the opera was wonderful without Carlotta and then wants his pay. For what? Watching the opera for free. This man. . . . Ghost, or whatever he is, is insane."  
  
Armand nodded. "Indeed he is."  
  
The door to the office was suddenly thrown open. Firmin and Armand jumped at the sight, half expecting their 'ghost' to saunter in. To their relief, Raoul walked in, but with an angry look across his youthful face. He looked at the managers angrily.  
  
"Ah, Monsieur le Vicomte, what a pleasure it is to see you again!" Armand said with a smile.  
  
Firmin approached Raoul. "I hope you enjoyed the opera last night, and we are both dreadfully sorry Christine couldn't join you for dinner."  
  
"Where is she?" Raoul growled. The two managers looked at the Vicomte with a confused look across their faces. "Christine. Where is she?"  
  
Armand shrugged. "How should we know? We don't keep track of every person employed here."  
  
Raoul glared at the manager and held up the note in his hand. "Did either of you write me this note?"  
  
"No." Firmin and Armand said in unison.  
  
"Than she's not with you?" Raoul asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Of course not." Firmin replied.  
  
Raoul narrowed his eyes. "Don't argue with me. This has to be your handy work. Who else could have written me a note like this?"  
  
Firmin took the note, but had it snatched away by Armand. He smiled to himself and looked at the note. "If you wish to keep your life, do not try to see Miss Daae again. She is in good health and with her dear friend. I do not wish to harm you, but I will if I must."  
  
"I'm sorry, Monsieur, but neither Armand or myself wrote that note." Firmin said.  
  
"But if neither of you did, than who?" Raoul asked.  
  
"There you are."  
  
The three men turned to the door. Carlotta stormed into the room, dressed in her best clothes. Her face was scarlet with anger. In her grasp was a crumpled letter, which the three men noticed with a groan. Her eyes bore into Raoul and she walked to him.  
  
"I got your letter, pig." Carlotta spat.  
  
"What?" Raoul asked.  
  
Carlotta threw the letter at Raoul angrily. "How dare you send me such a thing? I have the nerve to request that you leave this opera as a patron. I will not let this things go unnoticed."  
  
Raoul sighed and picked up the letter. "I haven't written you a single note, Signora."  
  
"You dare disagree with me?" Carlotta gasped.  
  
Slowly, Raoul opened the letter and sighed. "Your days at the Opera are numbered. I advise you to retire soon and with your dignity. Christine will sing on your behalf, hence forth. If you try and take her place, I promise that a great misfortune will befall upon you."  
  
"My God, how many notes are there going to be?" Armand asked in annoyance. He sat at his desk and slumped over. "It also happens that all but one of the notes we've seen is about Christine. Its making me start to wonder about her."  
  
Raoul glared at Armand. "She wouldn't do such a thing! How dare you even think about it."  
  
"It seems like the most logical explanation." Carlotta huffed. She crossed her arms over her chest. "She wants to be the star, but I'm in her way. What does she do? Write notes to get me out!"  
  
"Please!" Firmin cried out. The others fell silent. "We cannot argue amongst ourselves. From what I can tell, though, is that every note was written by the same person. The hand writing is all the same, and so is the ink."  
  
Carlotta frowned. "Then they all must be written by either Christine or Monsieur de Chagny!"  
  
"How dare you suspect. . . ." Raoul cried out, taking a step towards the opera singer.  
  
"Who else would want me to retire to let that wretched toad take my place?" Carlotta yelled, pushing Raoul into Firmin.  
  
Armand quickly stepped in between Carlotta and Raoul. He gave a weak smile, trying to calm the two. "Please, I will not let you two fight. Signora Giudicelli, no one is trying to replace you! You are our prized performer. The author of these notes will be found out and I do not believe the person is in this room."  
  
Before anyone could react Mme. Giry appeared. She raised her hand, which held a note. "I have something for you to read, Monsieur."  
  
**********  
  
Christine laid down on the velvet cushions of her couch. She stared blankly at the ceiling, thinking of the recent events between her and Erik. She couldn't answer the question. She couldn't even force the words I love you from her lips. Christine couldn't tell if it was from fear, or if the feelings weren't true.  
  
There was a soft knock at the door. Christine sat up, starring at the door. She flopped back down and closed her eyes. She didn't want to see anyone. All she wanted to do was think. Not about just anything, but about Erik and the night they had spent together. Everything was beginning to be so confusing.  
  
Again there was a knock, and, this time, a soft voice came with it. Christine rolled onto her stomach and hid her face. She hoped the person would take the hint and leave. The voice came again, this time louder and begging. It was Raoul.  
  
"Leave me alone." Christine yelled into the pillow. She lifted her face and looked towards the door. "I don't want to see anyone."  
  
Raoul sighed and twisted the door knob. It was locked. He knocked on the door and Christine yelled for him to leave. "Christine, open the door. We. . . ."  
  
"No! There is no we, Raoul, and there never will be." Christine cried. Tears began to force their way out of her eyes. She stared at the door in a blurry haze, sniffling softly. "Leave me alone, Raoul. Leave me alone."  
  
"You don't mean that." Raoul explained. "You are still exhausted from your performance. I know what will make you feel better. Come with me to the Notre Dame Cathedral or to the shops. You can have anything you want, Christine. I just want you to be happy."  
  
Christine sobbed and wiped away a few tears. "Then leave me alone. Don't bother me or even speak to me. I don't want to see you, or anyone, for the rest of the day. Tell them all that!" She buried her face into a pillow sobbing and letting the material soak up her tears.  
  
Silence settled around the room like a blanket. Christine wept for, what felt like, hours. Her eyes became soar and her heart weak of emotion. Meg wanted to speak with her, but the conversation resulted like Raoul's quarrel. At one point Mme. Giry crept into the room, she had a set of keys for every room, and put a tray of drinks and food on Christine's vanity table.  
  
"Christine."  
  
The soft voice drifted on the air and raised Christine's face from a tear soaked pillow. Her eyes scanned the room, but there was nothing. Her heart throbbed in her chest, feeling like it would burst through her ribs. Christine sat up and straightened her hair, wondering if she was imagining things.  
  
"My darling." the voice whispered, soft a luxurious. "My precious."  
  
The voice drew Christine from her position on the couch. She looked towards the door, wondering if the person was there. Deep down, though, she knew no one was there. The voice was still speaking to her and seemed to be in her own mind. Christine couldn't imagine why, but she had a feeling was going mad.  
  
"Christine."  
  
Turning around quickly, Christine froze. Erik stood on the other side of her mirror, dressed as if her was ready for an opera. His eyes stared at her from behind the white mask, filled with compassion. The hint of tears glistened in those eyes, but the emotion was quickly concealed.  
  
Christine rushed to the mirror. Her hands felt the glass, hoping that she could touch Erik. All she felt was the cold, unfeeling mirror. She wanted to cry, but she couldn't force out any more tears. She starred into his eyes.  
  
"How long have you been there?" Christine asked.  
  
Erik blinked and studied Christine's face. "Hours. I've watched you cry and yell out such things that you know aren't true. Mme. Giry has left you some food and wine. Why don't you eat?"  
  
"I'm not hungry." Christine replied. She looked at Erik, but turned her eyes away.  
  
"Why were you crying?" Erik asked softly. "There has to be some reason for you to cry for half the day. The sight of not seeing you smile is heart wrenching."  
  
Christine sighed softly. "I'm just confused. I just had my starring performance and. . . . my father wasn't here to see it." Her words were heartfelt and mostly true. She had wanted her father to be there to see her, but that wasn't troubling her. She still thought of Erik and the time she had spent with him.  
  
Raising her eyes, Christine stared at the white mask that covered half of Erik's face. "What is behind your mask?"  
  
Erik's face became clouded with an array of different emotions. "What?" His voice shook with uncertainty and fear.  
  
"I want to see what's behind your mask, Erik." Christine replied. "I want to know what you're hiding from me."  
  
"No." Erik replied, shaking his heard. He averted his eyes from Christine's unsure of what his own were showing. "I've told you this before, Christine. As beautiful as I seem, nothing can change a person's feelings for me. People have seen me before and their reactions have done too much damage. Your reaction will be the same, I'm afraid."  
  
Christine placed a hand on the mirror, her eyes drawing Erik to look at her. A quivering hand rose to meet her own on the other side of the glass. "Show me what is hidden behind that porcelain mask. I want to see my angel, for what he truly is."  
  
Slowly Erik's gloved hand reach behind his head. His eyes closed slowly and a grave look washed across his face. For a moment he paused, his hands shaking and a tear trickling down his cheek. Silence had settled between them, and now Erik's breath came rigidly.  
  
With a heavy breath the mask was pulled free, exposing the unseen half of Erik's face. The skin was smooth for the touch of a fire, a few scars slashed across his cheek and eye. He had no eyebrow or eyelashes for the obvious incident of fire. Parts of his skin seemed translucent, veins showing beneath the skin. There was nothing there that seemed like it once came from the other half of Erik's face.  
  
Erik opened his eyes and stared into Christine's face. She let out a gasp and took a step back. She stared into Erik's eyes, fear and horror flashing across her face. Erik's eyes narrowed in anger and he quickly put the mask back on. He cursed beneath his breath as he fumbled with the leather straps. His eyes flashed at Christine, feeling no remorse for the furry they held.  
  
With a cry of anger Erik threw his mask into the darkness behind him. He looked at Christine, his eyes starring into hers. "I should have never done this." Erik spat. He stood straight and smoothed his hair with his gloved hands. He looked down at Christine and frowned. "Why would I think that you would be any different?"  
  
"Erik?" Christine said, her voice shaking with on coming tears. She blinked and lowered her eyes.  
  
"Every look is the same." Erik growled. His eyes were hard as he looked at Christine. "Can you not look at me with out the look of horror and disgust? Didn't I tell you that everything would shatter when you saw my face? Didn't I?"  
  
Christine shook with fear and raised her eyes to Erik's. "Please, don't yell, Erik. You're scaring me."  
  
A laugh escaped from Erik like nothing Christine had ever heard. He sneered and pointed a hand to his face. "Does my anger scare you more than my face? Should I even bother asking if you love me if you couldn't answer before? Don't think I didn't take that to heart."  
  
A gasp escaped Christine and her eyes widened.  
  
"That struck a nerve." Erik laughed. He gave a seductive, yet evil smile. "Remember this, though, Christine. You have gone past a point where not even you can return. You are mine, Christine, and mine alone. I could have shown you the world and given the same. My heart and soul went into teaching you and you destroyed that with one stroke. Good bye, Christine."  
  
Erik's form suddenly disappeared from the mirror.  
  
"Erik?" Christine whispered. Her eyes widened with fear as she touched the mirror. Erik didn't return. She drug her hand down the glass. "Erik! Come back, please! I love you, Erik. Don't leave me! Please. . . Don't leave me. . . ."  
  
Christine fell to her knees and broke into tears. She stared into her reflection, wishing to see Erik's face looking back. All that was there, though, was her own reflection. The tear streaked face and red eyes. Her hair was a mess from laying on the couch for hours.  
  
"I'm a wicked monster." Christine whispered to herself. She closed her eyes, forcing out more tears. She stood and walked to her vanity table. The tray of food was still there. The food had gone cold and the drinks were warm and tasteless.  
  
With a cry of anger and sadness Christine threw the tray into the mirror. The glass cracked, causing her image to break into more. With sob Christine collapsed in front of the mirror. Her sobs and whispers for her angel to return faded into silence. 


	18. Chapter seventeen

A/N: Hey guess what?? This is the halfway point of the story.*jumps for joy* Thanks to everyone I've kept working on this story and this is the longest one I've written. I hope everyone enjoys this and I promise that I wont stop writing until it is finished.  
  
Hugs and many thanks,  
  
Yukito-sama  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter seventeen  
  
  
  
Weeks passed by. Erik didn't return to the mirror and heard her tear from his home. Christine spent her free time in her room, hoping and praying that Erik would return. Her role as the Countess for 'Il Muto' wasn't secured and she was once again the pageboy. Her heart was broken, even more so when Erik didn't return to comfort her.  
  
Christine slowly began to turn to Raoul for her comfort, spending more and more time with her old friend. She could feel Erik watching her as she spent time with him in the theatre. She wanted to turn around and call out to him, but she knew nothing would coax him from the shadows. The look on Erik's face was etched in her memory and she knew her own expression was etched in his mind. Her own emotions had corrupted what ever they had.  
  
The occurrences of th Opera Ghost continued. The managers paid him, with annoyance all the way. Small accidents happened around the stage and things went missing. The chorus girls blamed the Phantom and recived amazing stories from other cast members. Soon stories of the Opera Ghost were circling the opera house once more.  
  
The opening night for 'Il Muto' came upon the opera quickly. Christine stood back stage, her heart racing. She peered through the edges of the curtain and looked into the audience. Her eyes went up to the managers' box and she smiled as she saw Raoul with them. The three talked and Raoul left the box, reappearing in box five.  
  
Christine's heart nearly stopped. She felt a wave of fear and nausea sweep over her. Box five was Erik's box and his alone. Everyone who had taken the box seemed to be attacked by an unseen person. Raoul would, no doubt, be killed by Erik's anger and hatred towards the Vicomte.  
  
Everything seemed to happen like a dream. Christine went through the opera, not making a single sound. Her eyes constantly went to box five, seeing if Raoul was still there. The opera continued with flare, the music sounded great and the dancing wonderful.  
  
Carlotta turned to Christine, a smile passing over her painted face. "Serafimo, away with this pretence! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence!"  
  
"Fools! Did I not instruct that my box remain empty?"  
  
The voice seemed to come from every direction. Carlotta's singing came to an abrupt stop and the music faded with a horrid sound. Christine looked around, fear transpiring her eyes, knowing it was Erik. Her eyes were fixated on box five. Raoul was standing looking around, hoping to find this strange person.  
  
"It's him." Christine said. She felt her heart beat wildly in her chest. "I know it, it's him!"  
  
Carlotta spun around, glaring at Christine. "Your part is silent!" Christine cowers away from Carlotta, who advances slowly. "I should have you thrown into the gutter like the toad you are!"  
  
"A toad?" Erik's voice growled. Carlotta turned as Erik mimicked her. A flash of fear went through her eyes. "Maybe, Madame, you are the toad."  
  
After a moment of confusion, Carlotta motioned for the conductor to continue from the beginning of the song. Christine looked at her, managing to hide her fear of impending danger. The song began as before, but this time Carlotta's voice began to turn to a frog's croak.  
  
Snickers began to rise from the audience. Carlotta stopped and looked to the managers, embarrassed and confused. The music continued to play. Carlotta opened her voice to sing, but all that escaped her throat was a croak.  
  
Unable to control her own voice, Carlotta continued to croak. The audience began to laugh and the music stopped. A hysterical laugh rose from the others, slowly growing louder and drowning out the others. The audience's laughter died as they looked around in fear. Carlotta had stopped croaking and shook with fear in the middle of the stage.  
  
"Behold!" Erik's voice rang out. He began to laugh once more. "Your star is bringing down the chandelier!"  
  
All eyes turned upwards. The large chandelier was teetering back and forth, the lights flickering with every sway. Screams began to ring out. Carlotta was whisked off stage and the managers rushed on, shooing the straying actors into the wings. Slowly the chandelier came to a halt.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen! May we please have your attention?" Firmin yelled from the stage.  
  
Armand cupped his hands over his mouth. "Please, listen!" Silence slowly fell over the opera house. "Please! There is no danger! The chandelier is quite sound."  
  
Firmin cleared his throat. "The opera will continue in ten minutes, when the role of the Countess will be sung by Miss Daae."  
  
"Um, in the mean time we will have our lovely chorus girls give you the ballet from Act three of tonight's performance!" Armand looked towards the wings and motioned for the girls to come on stage. They hurried out and quickly got into the their first positions. Armand smiled in approval and looked at the maestro. "Maestro, the ballet!"  
  
Without hesitation the orchestra began the ballet's music. The managers hurried off stage, talking in hushed whispers and trying to keep out of the way. The girls danced to the music, pushing away the thoughts of the Phantom's laughter. Each knew that the managers were counting on them to calm the audience and buy them time to prepare Christine.  
  
As Meg spun her eyes caught sight of a strange shadow lurking behind the back drop. Her eyes widened as she began to suspect the worst. She glanced towards the wing and noticed the managers speaking with Christine. She and the other ballet girls began to weave in their dance and as Meg spun, she saw that the shadow seemed to be growing.  
  
"Jennet!" Meg whispered as she danced near the blonde haired dancer.  
  
"What?" Jennet said through her smile, concentrating more on dancing than anything else.  
  
Meg looked back at the shadow. Fear was striking in her heart as she the shadow envelope another. "Jennet, it's the Phantom! Look at the back drop!" she said in a hurried whisper.  
  
The ballet girls went into another pirouette. Jennet let out a gasp as she watched the shadow disappear. The two girls looked at each other as they danced, fear filling their eyes and hearts. The music swelled into the crescendo.  
  
Suddenly a body fell to floor with a sickening crack. Screams erupt from the audience as they all see the dead body of a stage hand. The music comes to an abrupt halt and the orchestra members don't know what to do. The chorus girls' screams echoed off the walls as they scurried off the stage, pushing by police and members of the opera popular.  
  
"Raoul? Raoul?" Christine cried out as she ran onto the stage. She looked through the sea of people, hoping to see Raoul's familiar face. "Raoul?"  
  
A hand suddenly comes down on Christine's shoulder. She lets out a scream and turns around. Raoul quickly embraces her, silencing Christine's outcry. She hugged Raoul sobbing into his shoulder, knowing what had been done, and by whom.  
  
Raoul took Christine's hand into his own. "Come with me, Christine. Box five is empty and we'll be able to talk." As Raoul began to lead Christine away, she stopped quickly. He turned and looked into her worried face. "What is it?"  
  
"We can't go to box five, Raoul." Christine said.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Christine shook her head. "Do not ask why. I can't give you an answer. Just come with me to the roof top!" Her eyes pleaded with Raoul. "Please."  
  
Raoul smiled softly and nodded.  
  
**********  
  
Christine sat on the roof top's edge, her body turned slightly so she could look out across the city. Her eyes stung from her tears. She never felt so frightened. Erik had killed someone again and she knew it was from his pent up anger. She felt like she was the cause of it all.  
  
Raoul pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around Christine. She looked up at him, a tear trickling down her cheeks. Sorrow filled his eyes and he took a seat beside her. He began to wipe away her tears, but Christine pulled away. She returned her gaze to the horizon.  
  
"Something is troubling you." Raoul said, his voice drifting with the soft wind. "Christine, my dear friend, tell me what is wrong. I've never seen you like this."  
  
Turning her face to Raoul, Christine smiled faintly. She blinked, letting new tears trickle down her face. "Isn't it beautiful?" Christine turned her eyes back to the city, blanketed in the darkness of night. "The city seems so peaceful, but it causes me so much heartache as I think of the pain it has caused me."  
  
Taking Christine's hand into his, Raoul turned her face to his. "Christine, I'll take you away from here. Just say the word and I'll whisk you away to any part of the world. All I want is for you to be happy!" Christine didn't reply. She turned her eyes away from Raoul, who felt hurt from her silence. "Why did you bring me here, Christine? Why to a place that brings you such heartache?"  
  
"I can't go back, Raoul! He'll find me! His eyes watch my every movement in this place." Christine suddenly said, throwing her arms around Raoul. She sniffled as tears began to streak down her cheeks once more.  
  
"What? Someone is causing this pain for you?" Raoul said, lifting Christine's face away from his body so he can look into her eyes.  
  
"The Phantom of the Opera." Christine replied with a whisper.  
  
Raoul laughed. He didn't notice Christine's hurt expression as he chuckled and wiped away her tears. "My dear Christine. There is no Phantom of the Opera. It is a myth weaved by the people of the opera to keep the chorus girls in line. It is all in your mind."  
  
Christine stood and walked away from Raoul. She let her hand run over the stone edge of the roof as she walked. She paused for a moment, her hands coming to a stop as she looked towards the city. "Raoul, I have seen the Phantom. He is in the opera house. He lives here." Christine turned and looked desperately at Raoul, hoping he'd believe her. "I've been to his home, Raoul! I've remained there for days and some times weeks!. He live is solitude and darkness. I've even seen his face! That face is something from a nightmare. Distorted and hidden from view by a single mask."  
  
"You can't be serious." Raoul said, standing and slowly approaching Christine.  
  
"Despite all the lifetime of loneliness and hatred, his voice is that of an angel." Christine turned away from Raoul as he reached for her. She looked at the roof top, remembering her time with Erik. "His voice is like an angel, soft and sweet and filled with joy as he sings for me. His very voice lifts me from this world until I've either fallen asleep or broken down in tears from such a heartfelt symphony."  
  
Raoul took Christine into his arms. She struggled away and wrapped her arms around herself. "Christine, it was only a dream." Raoul said softly. "All that you heard was from a dream."  
  
Christine shook her head. "No, Raoul. He is real! He is flesh and blood." She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth. "His eyes are filled with such sadness that it would cause a person to cry if they looked into them. Those eyes could make someone tremble or fall pray to their beauty. They adore looking at me. The way he looks at me its like I'm the only person that has ever been kind to him."  
  
As a new string of tears formed in her eyes, Christine felt Raoul hold her close to him. His hand caressed her face and stroked her hair. "It's all right, Christine. He can't reach you here." Raoul whispered. "Christine, my darling. Nothing can harm you as long as I'm with you, Christine."  
  
"Christine." The strange voice drifted on the wind, seeming to come from the opera house itself.  
  
Christine's eyes flew open. She pushed away from Raoul and she looked around. Her eyes wide with fear she looked at Raoul. "What was that?" The silence from Raoul made Christine tremble with fear. "He's found me, Raoul. Er. . . . The phantom is here." Christine managed to catch herself before speaking Erik's name to Raoul. She wanted to tell someone about him, but didn't want to betray every secret that Erik held.  
  
Raoul looked at Christine lovingly and took her hands into his. She turned and looked at him, shaken by fear. "Christine. There is nothing to fear. I'm here and I can protect you from anything. No matter what, I'll remain by your side to guard you and guide you."  
  
"Is that true?" Christine asked. The fear struck in her heart, slowly, began to melt away. "Will you protect me, Raoul?"  
  
"Yes! I will show you freedom from this 'phantom.' I can shelter you and take you away from his world of darkness."  
  
"That's all I've wanted." Christine smiled softly. "Freedom and shelter."  
  
Raoul smiled, sensing that Christine was returning to her normal self. "Christine, I want to share the rest of my life with you. I can take you away from this solitude which drives you tears. Just say the word and I will follow you to the ends of the earth."  
  
A new light seemed to shine in Christine's eyes. Hope and dreams were being rekindled in her life. She smiled brightly, looking into Raoul's eyes. "Say that you love me, Raoul. Say it and we can share each night and day together. I want to be loved, Raoul. That's all I truly want/"  
  
Without hesitation Raoul kissed Christine. He pulled away slowly, his eyes starring deep into Christine's. "I love you and I always have."  
  
"Oh no!" Christine cried. "The opera! I forgot all about it. I must go! They must be wondering where I went off to." She turned and hurried towards the door.  
  
"Christine!" Raoul said quickly. She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "I love you."  
  
A soft smile crossed Christine's face. "Order your carriage to be at the doors when the opera has ended. I will meet you there as soon as I am able."  
  
Raoul approached Christine and took her hand. He kissed it and opened the door slowly. "Soon, my darling, we will be together. You will no longer fear this phantom." He kissed Christine's cheek. "Come, now. You shouldn't keep the audience waiting."  
  
**********  
  
Erik sat in box five, his eyes starring hard at the stage. Raoul never returned to the box, taking refuge with the managers for Christine's sake. Erik wanted to see Raoul and finish him like he should have the night he took Christine for dinner. He had his chance, but the way Christine had looked at him, the fear in her eyes, caused him to rethink and leave the scene.  
  
The curtain rose and applause rang out from every audience member. Erik frowned, clutching the arms of the chair tightly. He glared at Christine, knowing that she couldn't see him. He felt betrayed by the one person he had trusted in so many years.  
  
"I gave you everything." Erik whispered, his eyes still on the young singer. "I gave you your voice. Without me you would still be dancing in the background, never getting the chance to be the star. Will this be your gratitude? You betray me and repay me with heartbreak. That damned idiot was bound to love you once he heard the voice I gave you."  
  
A soft knock came from the door. Erik didn't answer and listened as the door opened with a slight creak. A stream of light from the hall fell onto the floor, with that a slightly shadow.  
  
"A man is here to speak with you." Mme. Giry said.  
  
"Does this man have a name." Erik said bitterly.  
  
There were soft whispers from the other side of the door. "Monsieur Akil."  
  
Erik smiled. "Let him in."  
  
The applause continued and Erik didn't move to greet his friend. Akil, dressed in a suit, took a seat beside Erik. Neither spoke. Erik's eyes were still on Christine. After a moment Akil followed his gaze, studying Christine as she bowed and smiled at the audience.  
  
"Is that Christine Daae?" Akil asked.  
  
"Yes." Erik replied with a frown. He looked at Akil and let a foreboding smile cross his face. "My dear friend, have you ever taken notice of the opera's lovely chandelier?"  
  
Akil looked up. The massive chandelier was lavishly built. With the faint light the whole thing appeared to be made from gold and pearls. "Its beautiful, Erik. This whole building is magnificent. No wonder you choose this as your home."  
  
Erik chuckled and looked back at the stage. He moved until he was comfortable. "I've always wondered what would happen if that thing fell." A smirk crossed his face. "The havoc. The chaos. A sense of fear would be struck into the hearts of all who ever crossed beneath it. Screams would echo in this building for ever."  
  
"You can't be serious, Erik." Akil said, giving a nervous laugh. "There is no way of getting such a thing to drop. It would take so much time and effort."  
  
"Really?" Erik replied, cocking his eyebrow. His gloved hand motioned to the chandelier. "Why don't we find out."  
  
With a wave of Erik's hand, the chandelier began to sway. The applause and cheers from the audience drowned out the grown of the monstrous object. The lights flickered and Erik's laughter began to swell. A crack sounded from the chandelier and, with one last groan, fell from the ceiling.  
  
Screams sprang from the audience as the chandelier crashed into the seats below. People ran from the wreckage and hurried to the doors. Christine stood on stage, starring at the broken chandelier. Her eyes were wide with fear and they turned towards box five.  
  
Erik stood and walked towards the door. Akil stopped him, taking hold of Erik's arm. The two looked at each other. Akil's hand fell from Erik's arm as he noticed a tear forming in his eyes.  
  
"Why?" Akil asked softly.  
  
Turning his face away, Erik tried to hide his tears. "That girl, my angel and light in life, has betrayed me, Akil. I only hope that my love can hold true and subside my rage. I don't want to hurt her anymore."  
  
With those final words Erik disappeared into the shadows of the Opera house. 


	19. Chapter eighteen

Chapter eighteen  
  
Six months later  
  
  
  
The night of the disaster was still in everyone's mind. Rave reviews, despite the massive deaths, were given to the opera cast and, most of all, Christine Daae. She left Paris with Raoul and didn't return for two weeks. Armand and Firmin kept her spot open and were relieved when she returned to them. Unbeknownst to everyone, the two young lovers were engaged.  
  
Months had passed and there wasn't a single incident with the Opera Ghost. Letters still came, though, and his salary was paid without qualms. Peace was finally settling over the building. A new chandelier was made and hung, along with new seats for the ones that had been smashed. A new opera to perform was still undecided and the managers decided to hold a masquerade for the opera's new season.  
  
Christine sat in her dressing room, combing her hair and slowly putting three green feathers in it. A gold chain dangled from her neck and a gold ring as it's pendant. She stood and looked at herself. The ball gown she wore was an emerald green, her gloves of the same color reached up to her elbows, and the straps of her dess had green feathers sewn into the material.  
  
A bright smile crossed Christine's face as she touched the ring around her neck. She had her happiness. Raoul never left her side and made sure she had everything she need. Christine was beginning to believe that he was the one she was searching for.  
  
"Christine. . . ."  
  
Turning sharply Christine looked at the familiar mirror. Her reflection stared back. She slowly approached the looking glass, walking as if in a trance. Christine didn't know if she was imagining it or if she truly heard music swelling from behind the glass.  
  
Christine placed a hand on the glass and stared into the eyes of her reflection. "Erik?" she whispered, her eyes searching for the familiar masked face. "Erik, are you there?" Her heart sank as she heard no reply and the music faded into silence.  
  
Turning away from the mirror Christine left the room. She hurried through the empty halls. Raoul was waiting for her at the Grand Foyer, mingling with the other aristocrats of the city. She wanted to be at his side, protected from any harm.  
  
**********  
  
Erik looked at himself in the mirror Akil had bought him. His suit had been exchanged for a lavishly made crimson costume. A smile crossed his face as he examined himself and found everything to be to his liking. He turned his back to the looking glass and pulled off his mask. With a few quick movements he exchanged the simple mask for one fashioned like a skull. The mask stopped at his nose, but reached down his cheeks. His costume looked complete.  
  
"Akil." Erik said, finally taking a look at himself in the mirror. He smiled happily. "What do you think, my friend? Doesn't this costume look great?"  
  
The Persian looked up from Erik's desk and smiled. He was dressed for the masquerade as well, but his costume wasn't as flashy as his masked friend. He was dressed as a knight from the old tales of King Arthur. "Don't you think you'll be noticed a little too much? You may end up scaring a few of the guests."  
  
Erik turned and faced Akil. "That is the whole point. I've been away from them all for too long and I must regain what I have lost in these six months."  
  
"What do you call this any way?" Akil asked, approaching his friend. He walked around Erik, taking in every aspect of the costume.  
  
"The Red Death." Erik replied with a smirk. He moved to his bed and quickly picked up a rather large hat. Plumed feathers were tucked into the hat's rim, the same color as the rest of Erik's costume. He placed the hat on his head and fixed it until he found it to be precise.  
  
Akil looked at his reflection in the mirror and shook his head. "Compared to you, my costume looks ghastly." The two laughed. "I guess its good that you decided to stay away from me. I wont be over shown by your costume and I wont appear suspicious."  
  
Erik shook his head and ignored Akil's comments. He began rummaging through a few drawers, hoping to find a pair of gloves. "Akil, can you get the music from my piano? I wish to give it to the managers tonight." Erik smiled happily as he found the pair of crimson gloves he had been searching for.  
  
"I hope you're giving back all the scores you took. They seem to need everyone they have." Akil said as he approached the piano. He paused and picked up the large score. "What is this?"  
  
A smile passed over Erik's face as he put his gloves on. "I have finally finished that damned opera. The thing was eating me alive and depriving me of sleep for half of my life, Akil. Now, it is finally done and I will have this cursed opera house perform it for the first time."  
  
Akil lifted the first sheet of paper. "Don Juan Triumphant. An interesting title, if I may say."  
  
Erik snatched the score away from Akil. His eyes looked hard at his Persian friend but softened as he took in a breath. He let his arms fall to his side, hiding the score as his cloak billowed around him. "Come now, Akil. The people of the opera are waiting for us. I don't think we should keep them waiting."  
  
**********  
  
Christine watched the others dance and talk amongst their friends. Raoul was off talking with the managers and a few other members of the opera popular. She felt out of place in the mass of unknown faces. She loved masquerades, but not when she is alone and left to fend for herself in a sea of people unknown to her.  
  
"You look beautiful, Mademoiselle Daae."  
  
The familiar voice pierced through Christine's thought like a knife. She spun around and her breath caught in her throat. The owner of the voice stood before her, dressed in a crimson red costume. A mask, fashioned like a skull, hid their face.  
  
As Christine studied the mask, her eyes paused on the eyes that stared at her. They blinked and seemed to glow. Christine's eyes widened slightly. She raised a gloved hand to the mask, wondering if she was dreaming this. The person took her hand into their own and was surprised when Christine didn't flinch or try to recoil.  
  
"Erik? Is that you?" Christine whispered.  
  
"Yes my, Christine." Erik replied, slowly lowering Christine's hand. "Its been a long time since we've seen each other." Christine nodded, her eyes still staring into Erik's. Holding her hand tightly Erik motioned to the mass of dancing people. "It would be an honor if you would dance with me."  
  
The two walked into the mass of people, their eyes never leaving the others. Holding Christine close, Erik began to lead her in a dance. The two spun and danced to the music as if it was second nature to them both. Christine's eyes never left the soft eyes of Erik. She never wanted this to end. They were together, in bliss, and it seemed like nothing could stop this moment.  
  
Slowly the music swelled and its pace quickened. Christine and Erik danced with the music, never losing a step. Unknown to either of them, the dance floor was cleared by the others who, now, watched the two dance. Whispers rose from the crowd as the watched Christine dance with the strange man with death's head.  
  
"Monsieur de Chagny, is that your fiancée dancing?" Armand asked, pointing to the cleared floor.  
  
Raoul turned and let out a gasp of surprise and shock. He watched, for a moment, as Christine danced across the floor with the strange man. Everyone in the room watched the strange couple dance to the endless music, neither one seeming to grow tired.  
  
"Who is that man?" Raoul asked angrily.  
  
"I don't know, Monsieur." Firmin replied. He squinted and shrugged. "The mask he is wearing is hiding his face. I can't tell who he is."  
  
Raoul narrowed his eyes. "I don't care if he is a nobleman, no one dances with Christine except for me." He looked at the managers. "Please excuse me." He moved past Armand and Firmin and disappeared into the crowd. The managers exchanged worried glances and hurried after Raoul.  
  
As the dance between Erik and Christine ended, Erik looked past the young opera star and noticed Raoul approaching him. A smile crossed his face and he took Christine by the hand. His eyes turned to hers, looking deep into the joy that was blooming in them. Erik kissed her hand softly, sensing Raoul's seething anger towards him.  
  
Suddenly Raoul took hold of Christine and pulled her away from Erik. The two men glared at each other, neither one wanting to back down. Christine's eyes were still on Erik, possessing the familiar look of longing towards her masked love. Raoul didn't see this, but only saw that the masked man was starring at Christine as if she was his to have.  
  
"Monsieur, I beg your pardon." Erik said, slowly turning his eyes to Raoul. He smiled softly. "I think you have just interrupted a dance I was having with Mademoiselle Daae."  
  
Raoul frowned. "Just who do you think you are?"  
  
Erik laughed. "I am just a simple man of the opera popular. Nothing less."  
  
"Well, Monsieur," Raoul said with a bitter tone, "I do not care who you are. You will not dance with Mademoiselle Daae."  
  
"Oh really?" Erik laughed. He looked at Christine and held out his hand. "Mademoiselle, would you like to have another dance?"  
  
Trance-like, Christine took Erik's hand. A triumphant smiled crossed Erik's face as he lead Christine into another dance. Raoul glared at Erik, and began to wonder how Christine could betray him. He turned to walk off but his way was blocked by Firmin and Armand.  
  
Firmin looked at Christine and the strange man in red. "What happened?"  
  
Raoul scowled. "That imbecile managed to talk Christine into a dance. I don't know how Christine could do such a thing to me."  
  
Armand gave a curt nod. "If I were you I'd put a stop to it. Christine is your fiancée."  
  
"Armand is right." Firmin added. "Are you just going to stand there why this strange man takes her away from you?"  
  
Before Raoul could reply Erik had stopped his dance, causing Christine to come to a stunned halt. He glared at the managers. Reaching into his cloak, Erik pulled out the score to Don Juan Triumphant. He threw it at Firmin, who barely caught it.  
  
Firmin looked down at the manuscript. "What is this?"  
  
"That, Firmin, is my finished score, Don Juan Triumphant." Erik spat. He glared at the managers. "Your precious money has gone to a magnificent cause, Monsieur." He laughed as a shocked look befell the guests and the managers. "Your silence speaks as loud as words. Did you miss me? Did you actually think I would leave without a word?"  
  
Armand opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out.  
  
Erik sneered. "I advise you to submit to my requests. My instructions should be clear. There are worst things, my dear comrades, than a chandelier falling onto the heads of the audience." He turned and looked at Christine. She stood away from him and Raoul, shaking with fear. Erik extended his hand, his eyes meeting with Christine's.  
  
Fear melting away, Christine took Erik's hand. She was pulled to his body, her eyes starring deep into Erik's. Raoul made a move to take Christine, but was stopped cold as Erik looked at him with murder in his eyes. The silence in the room was defining.  
  
"What is that, Christine?" Erik said, his eyes starring at the chain around her neck. He suddenly ripped the necklace from her, letting the golden chain fall to the floor. Erik looked at the engagement ring. A hurt expression came over his face and he looked back at Christine.  
  
Christine glanced at the ring and then at Erik. "I'm sorry." she whispered.  
  
Erik frowned and suddenly the ring vanished. Gasps rose from the crowd. "You're still mine, Christine. I'll never let you forget that."  
  
Taking Christine's hand, Erik kissed it one last time. He took a step back and gave a low bow. There was a sudden crash and explosion. In the chaos of smoke and screaming, Erik seemed to disappear into nothing. 


	20. Chapter nineteen

Chapter nineteen  
  
  
  
Christine looked at her reflection in the floor length mirror. The memories of last night' masquerade played through her mind. Those moments she danced with Erik were repeating in her memory over an over. His eyes looked at her with the love she had longed to see for so long. He was still as kind as he always was, courteous and charming. Nothing had changed.  
  
Letting down her hair, Christine turned and sat down at her vanity table. Raoul had left to speak with the managers. To everyone's amazement Christine had received the leading role in Don Juan Triumphant. Carlotta had raised hell but the cast wasn't to be changed. She was reduced to a chorus member, to sing and perform in only three scenes.  
  
'You're still mine, Christine. I'll never let you forget that.' Erik's last words echoed in Christine's mind. His voice was filled with both love and hatred. She was his, her mind, soul, and voice. He also owned her for betraying his trust and seeing what was behind his mask. Erik had once told Christine that who ever saw his face was doomed to be his forever.  
  
"My darling, Christine."  
  
Christine raised her eyes to the vanity mirror. The reflection of the floor length mirror gave full view of Erik's form. Christine turned around in her chair, her eyes wide with wonder. To her relief she wasn't dreaming. Erik was behind the mirror.  
  
"Erik!" Christine cried out. She rushed to the mirror, nearly knocking over her chair. Her robes fluttered around her as she came to a stop at the looking glass. She placed her hands on the glass, longing to feel his hands take hers.  
  
A soft, reassuring smile crossed Erik's face as he looked down at Christine. "I see you haven't forgotten your angel, Christine."  
  
Tears began to form in Christine's eyes. "Erik, I've missed you. You broke my spirit when you turned from me and didn't come back." She turned away from the mirror, beginning to move to the couch. She bent her head, letting a tear fall. "I don't know why I turned to Raoul for comfort. He was all that was there. He offered comfort and love."  
  
A soft hand caressed Christine's cheek. She looked up and into Erik's eyes. "As much as it pains me, Christine, I know it was my fault that you left. I drove you away because of the look in your eyes when you saw my face. My own mother couldn't even look upon me without a look of fear or disgust." He took Christine's face into his hands. "You remind me of her. Your voice, your eyes, and your love of music. It is like God is trying to make my life empty of companionship and love."  
  
"You know that I love you, Erik." Christine whispered. As she spoke those words she saw tears form in Erik's beautiful eyes. "When I was with Raoul all I wanted was to be with you. He can give me anything in the world, but only you can give me true happiness and music from the heart. Raoul loved me from childhood memories and my beauty. You love me for so much more. Erik, I want to be with you, and only you."  
  
Erik shook his head and let go of Christine. "No." he whispered. "Raoul can give you so much more, Christine. He can give you freedom. He'll shelter you and guide you in your life. I can't give you any of that."  
  
"But you can give me true happiness." Christine said. "If I had to give up everything, my voice and my career, to be with you, I would."  
  
"I know this hurts you, Christine. I know that you love me and I always did." Erik whispered. He began to walk towards the mirror. "From the moment you stayed with me that week you fell ill in my arms, I knew there was something between us. Now, though, another man has come into your world that can offer you the best in life."  
  
Christine seized Erik's hand, causing him to turn and look at her. "Grant me one last day with you, Erik. If only an hour, I will be happy. Don't leave me with such heart ache." Christine begged. Her eyes shook with on coming tears. "Take me to your home. I want one last night filled with music and you by my side. Please, Erik. I wont ask for anything more."  
  
Erik pulled Christine to his body and kissed her lips softly. His tears began to mingle with hers. "I could never deny you, Christine. You have shown me a kindness that no one else could." He kissed her once more. Taking Christine's hand he began to lead her to the mirror. "No one can ruin this day for us."  
  
**********  
  
The river beneath the opera house swayed with a soothing sound. A lamp hung from the boat, lighting the way if and when it was needed. Christine sat at the boats bow, looking down at the dark waters. Her fingers trailed over the surface, barely touching the waters below. Her reflection in the water rippled as the boat cut through, but the soft smile was still there.  
  
The sight of Erik's house brought a feeling of ease for Christine. She sat straight, her eyes gazing at the familiar place. Ayesha waited on the dock, her tail swishing against the wood and her eyes staring at her master and Christine. Her bell rung as she stood and began to pace like a hungry tiger. In the midst of her blue eyes, though, was a look of joy.  
  
"It looks like nothing has changed." Christine breathed.  
  
Erik smiled to himself and continued to row the boat. "My home never changes. Your room is how you left it."  
  
Christine turned and looked at Erik. A soft smile crossed her face. "Were you hoping I'd return."  
  
"I knew you would." Erik replied softly.  
  
The boat came to a halt at the dock. Erik jumped onto the pier and extended a hand to Christine. With a smile she took his hand and let herself be lifted to the dock. For a moment they stared at each other, neither one wanting to look away.  
  
"Erik!"  
  
Christine turned her gaze to the house as she heard a strange voice. A dark skinned man came from the house and hurried to the dock. She was shocked to see another person in Erik's home, and was amazed when Erik greeted him with a slight wave. The man was also amazed to see another person, slowing as he approached them both.  
  
"Hello, Mademoiselle Daae." the man said, with a bow. He looked at her nervously and then turned his gaze to Erik. "I'm sorry if I interrupted something."  
  
Erik shook his head. He began to tie the boat to the dock. "Christine, this is my dear friend Akil. I met him when I lived in Persia for a few years." He stood and looked at the two. They were both looking at each other in amazement. Erik laughed softly. "Come now you two. You are acting like you've never seen another person before."  
  
Christine blushed and averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, Monsieur. I didn't mean to stare."  
  
"I must apologize as well." Akil replied, nervously. He glanced at Erik. "I will return later. There are few things we must discuss."  
  
Erik nodded. He tenderly took Christine's hand and lead her to the house. Akil disappeared on path that lead to the street. Christine's thought quickly left the Persian man and returned to Erik as they stepped into the house. She wanted to think about Erik and nothing else.  
  
Like Erik said, the house didn't change. It was like a day never passed since Christine left. The door to her room was closed and the book she last read was on a small table next to the couch. Candles were lit in every corner and a fire blazed in the hearth.  
  
"Its like I never left." Christine whispered. She turned and watched as Erik pulled off his cloak. She suddenly wrapped her arms around him. Erik was startled by the sudden gesture, but returned it with a smile. "I've missed you so much."  
  
Erik stroked Christine's hair. "I've missed you too, Christine. My life has been dull without you walking though the house and singing softly." He kissed her forehead. "If I had a choice, I would never let you leave me again."  
  
Christine looked up at Erik. "If you want me to stay, I will. I'll never leave you."  
  
Shaking his head, Erik walked towards his bed room. "No, Christine. This wont work. You can find a better man."  
  
"I don't want to. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me." Christine explained following Erik.  
  
"Don't say that." Erik yelled, rounding on her. The two stared at each other for a moment. He sighed and turned away, slipping into his room.  
  
Christine closed her eyes tightly, letting the tears stream down her face. "Erik, I don't want you to leave me. Don't tear my heart away like this. All I want is your love and your love alone." She walked into Erik's room and the tears came with a greater force. All the color had faded into either a crimson red or black. It was as if Erik was waiting for his own death.  
  
Erik moved to his piano and began to play. His eyes glazed over and he slipped into a trance like state. Christine watched him, her tears streaming down her face. She slowly approached him, listening to the sweet music he played. Her heart ached and wept and she began to wonder why he didn't want her in his life.  
  
"Since first I saw your face I resolved to honor and renown ye. . . . If now I be disdained I wish my heart had never known ye. What I that loved and you that liked, shall we begin to wrangle. No, no, no, my heart is fast and can not disentangle. No, no, no, my heart is fast and can not disentangle."  
  
Christine's voice rang out like a bell, causing Erik to play with more emotion. As she ended the song Erik let out a cry of hopelessness and anger. His hands came down on the keys, causing the whole piano to quiver with his intensity.  
  
"Why do you do this to me?" Erik asked, slowly turning his face to Christine's. His eyes were red from tears. He stood and looked into her eyes. "Why, Christine? Just hearing your voice drives me mad. A simple sigh or gasp sends shivers down my spine. You, my angel of music, are the reason why I continue to pursue life. Without your voice echoing in this building, I would have driven myself to death."  
  
The two stared at each other, tears dancing in their eyes. Erik lifted a hand and touched her cheek softly. Christine took his hand into hers and kissed it gently. Their eyes met again. What they couldn't speak was being spoken through their eyes. They loved each other and didn't want to let the other go. Something, though, was driving them apart. Doubt and jealousy.  
  
Without a word the two locked into a kiss, their souls becoming one and their troubles melting away. All that was in their minds was each other. 


	21. Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty  
  
  
  
Christine fell asleep in Erik's arms, both wrapped in the blankets of his bed. Ayesha slept on the piano seat, her voice purring softly and her tail twitching with a dream. The night drifted in to day, but none of them stirred. Christine's breath was in tune with Erik's, their face close to the other's as they continued their dream filled sleep.  
  
A soft knock lifted through the silence, causing Erik to stir. He opened his eyes with a yawn. He noticed Christine and smiled softly. His slender fingers brushed back a few strands of her hair. She stirred but didn't wake. A sigh escaped her and she nestled her head against the pillow.  
  
The knock sounded again, this time a little louder. Erik looked towards the door and felt his heart jump. He had forgotten that Akil was coming. The night with Christine had washed away every other thought from his mind. Erik could only wonder what Akil would think if he saw this scene.  
  
Erik tossed back the blankets of his bed and grabbed his clothes from the floor. He slipped on each article, being careful not to waken Christine. His mind lingered on the events of the night before. Christine never left him. They spent hours talking to each other, slowly falling deeper into the abyss that encased their love. In the height of it all the two ended up in bed together, their raw emotions shinning through yet again.  
  
As Erik pulled on his shirt he heard the door open softly. He ignored it and continued to dress.  
  
"Are you. . . . ."  
  
Erik glanced over his shoulder with a coy smile. Akil was at the door, a shocked look over his face. The Persian regained his composure and disappeared into the main room. Erik finished dressing and left his room in silence, making sure Christine didn't wake.  
  
Akil had settled on one of the couches, a baffled look still on his face. He stood quickly as Erik entered the room, who was slowly fixing his shirt. Erik smiled at him like a child caught doing something wrong. Akil didn't know how to respond. He forced a smile that was far from convincing. His eyes darted from Erik back to his closed bedroom door.  
  
"Good morning!" Erik said, running a hand through his hair. He glanced at the grandfather clock in one of the corners. It was almost seven. Erik smiled. "You're early today. I'm going to make some tea. Would you like some?" Before Akil could answer Erik turned and began to make his way to the kitchen.  
  
"There will be no tea, Erik." Akil hissed.  
  
Erik stopped and turned slowly. His eyes met with Akil's. The two stared at each other. More and more Akil was noticing that Erik appeared more mature than ever. With the changes over the past six months things had changed drastically. Lost hope and his nights spent on his opera. Than the masquerade was upon them and it all changed. It wasn't the finishing of the opera that changed Erik, it was the return of Christine Daae. Akil knew that Erik, somehow, found out about her return before many other people in the Opera Populare.  
  
"What have you done with Mademoiselle Daae?" Akil asked. He felt his soul shudder when he looked into Erik's eyes. They didn't seems to blink or change emotion.  
  
With a frustrated sigh Erik motioned to his room. "She is in there, if you didn't see before. You can look again, but be careful. She may have moved and I don't think she's wearing much." He returned to his original course to the kitchen.  
  
Akil, slightly perplexed, followed his masked friend. "I thought she left last night."  
  
Erik laughed to himself as he poured water into teakettle. "Apparently, my dear friend, you thought wrong. Christine never left my side."  
  
"And what. . . . How. . . ."  
  
The brown eyes looked at Akil from beneath the white mask. They spoke nothing, but turned away. Erik lit a fire and placed the teakettle over the flames. He paused, watching the flames flicker. With a sigh he turned and faced the Persian.  
  
"What?" Erik said angrily. "What do you want to know? The moment you saw me you haven't been able to keep your mind in one place. Ask you damned question so we can be done with this."  
  
Akil swallowed hard. "What did you do to Mademoiselle Daae to make her stay with you? The scene I saw you and her in this morning troubles me."  
  
Erik's eyes grew harsh and hard. "Are you implying that no woman can love me?"  
  
"Now, Erik, I never said that." Akil said, trying to calm Erik's temper.  
  
"No!" Erik growled. "You were implying, Akil. You asked me what I did to Christine. Do you think the only way I can have a woman is if I do something to her? Christine has come to me on her own will. I never threatened or frightened her. Like I told you before, women are fragile creatures. I treat Christine as if she was an angel."  
  
Akil watched Erik, unable to reply. His friend turned back to the kettle and continued to brew his tea. "Christine doesn't seem like a woman who would betray her love. She is bound to Raoul, Erik. The two are to be married in a few months."  
  
Erik closed his eyes tightly and tightened his hands into fists. "Do you think I don't know that?" he said through clenched teeth. He looked at Akil slowly. "Do you know what this is doing to me? I love Christine, Akil. I never felt this way towards anyone in my life. Not even my own mother."  
  
"What?" Akil gasped.  
  
"Christine has told me that she loves." Erik said, forgetting everything. "She wants to be with me. Raoul means nothing to her. I told her that we couldn't be together, and that drove her to tears. Half the night we spoke to each other. I held her in my arms, listening to her speak of her dead father and how much he spoke of an angel of music. Christine honestly believes I am the closest thing to this angel. I'm the closest thing to her father. She loves me as her angel, her father, and her lover."  
  
Akil was silent. Erik's speech had driven him to tears and the masked man turned away. Akil didn't move. He listened to Erik's sobs and let what his friend said sink in. Erik was truly in love with Christine, but it was taking a toll on him. It was tearing him apart.  
  
"Akil?" Erik whispered.  
  
"What?"  
  
Erik looked at his Persian friend. His eyes were glossy from his tears, shaking slightly with fear. "What am I going to do? What can I do? I cannot give Christine a life beyond the opera. Music is all I am. She has to live in the world that has shunned and hated me. I love her, Akil, but love is something that may cost me my life."  
  
Akil took Erik's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He looked into his friend's eyes. "I can help you, Erik. You have helped me before and now I can repay you."  
  
A soft smile crossed Erik's face. "Thank you, Akil."  
  
"You must promise me, though," Akil continued. "that you will return Christine to her dressing room. People will begin to wonder and it will only cause you more danger."  
  
Erik nodded. "I will, if you promise to do me one thing."  
  
"Anything."  
  
"You must go to the finest jeweler in Paris. Have him make a ring with a golden band and a ruby as red as a rose. I only want the best. The price means nothing."  
  
"A ring? What for?"  
  
"A promise, Akil. A promise that I will give and can never take back." 


	22. Chapter twenty one

Author's Note: Phew! This is my longest story ever. I'm sooooooo happy that you like this! It makes me happy. See! ^_^ Its because of all this feedback that the story is continuing. I'm starting the next chapter, so that will be up in a few days. Can you believe its getting close to the end??? I want to write another Phantom story after this. I don't what though. Any suggestions are welcome and I'll buddy up with someone if I have to do it! lol!  
  
Kristen  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter twenty one  
  
  
  
Christine woke up slowly. The sound of water was echoing in her mind. As she sat up she let out a gasp. She was laying on the couch in her dressing room. The last thing she remembered was being in Erik's arms, listening to him sing.  
  
With a strange feeling, Christine walked to her vanity, surprised to see herself dressed. Her eyes, though, were quickly drawn to a shinning object. Dangling over her vanity mirror was a golden chain, stabbing through a piece of paper. Christine's heart nearly stopped as she looked at the chain. It once held the engagement ring Raoul had given her. The chain was lost during the masquerade when Erik noticed the golden ring attached to it.  
  
Her hands shaking, Christine took the note from the necklace. She smiled softly as she recognized Erik's beautiful handwriting.  
  
Christine,  
  
I am sorry to leave you so soon. My best wishes and hopes are with you. I hope that the next time we meet everything will fall into place. I only wish the best for you, my darling Christine.  
  
Your angel,  
  
Erik  
  
"My darling." Christine said softly. She clutched the letter to her chest and closed her eyes. A smile danced across her face. It was the first time in months that she felt so happy. There was something about Erik's written words that made things seem better.  
  
There was a sudden knock at the door. Christine jumped and let out a small noise. There was a slight ruffling noise from the other side. Christine sighed and quickly folded the letter into a book. She looked at the cover. It was a copy of 'Romeo and Juliet' that Meg gave her two years earlier. She put it back on her vanity table.  
  
"Who's there?" Christine asked, slowly approaching the door.  
  
"It's me, Christine! Open up!" the perky voice of Meg replied.  
  
Christine opened the door. She was nearly tackled to the ground as Meg wrapped her arms around her friend. A nervous laugh escaped Christine as she looked at Meg. Her eyes were red from obvious tears. She sobbed and said something incoherent.  
  
"What's wrong?" Christine asked, slowly lifting Meg's face.  
  
Meg sniffled, smiling happily as she looked into her friend's eyes. "Christine, you've scared me more than I can handle. You always seem to disappear and strange men are with you. I think of you like a sister, Christine. I don't want anything to happen to you. When I came to get you earlier, you weren't here! I couldn't tell Raoul, so I told mother. She told me to be patient, that the one you were with would return you. Mother was right!"  
  
The tears began to form and Meg buried her face into Christine's waiting arms. She couldn't believe any of this. Mme. Giry must know about Erik and their relationship. She spoke to Meg as if she knew all about it. Christine couldn't gather herself to ask more questions. She had to comfort Meg and find where Raoul was.  
  
"Where is Raoul, Meg?" Christine asked. She went to her vanity table and grabbed a tissue. She held it out to the teary eyed girl, who took it with a faint smile.  
  
"He is in the manager's office." Meg replied. She began to wipe away her tears. "He has been there all morning. The managers wish to speak with you, Christine. All I know is that Raoul thinks that all will be well in the end."  
  
Christine nodded, but an ominous feeling washed over her. "You can stay here, Meg, if you want. I'll come back as soon as I can and we talk." Christine began to walk to the door. She paused and glanced at Meg. "If you are up to it I'll treat you to lunch."  
  
Meg's eyes lit up. She smiled happily. "Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes!" Christine replied. "We haven't really been together for over six months. We need to talk and spend time with each other."  
  
"Has anyone ever told you, you were an angel?"  
  
Christine smiled and felt her cheeks grow warm. Her thoughts turned to Erik. "Yes. Two people in my life, that I hold dear to me."  
  
**********  
  
The voices of the managers and Raoul echoed down the hall. Christine slowed her pace as she came closer to the closed door. Every so often she could hear Carlotta and Piangi adding their two cents in. Their voices were muffled by the walls and Christine couldn't make out a word. By the tone of their voices, what ever they were discussing wasn't being taken with joy.  
  
Christine touched the door knob and swallowed hard. By this point, she was beyond nervous. She swallowed her fears and slowly opened the door. The voices quickly fell silent. It felt like time was standing still as she stepped in.  
  
"Ah! Here's the little flower!" Carlotta said bitterly. She retired to a chair, which Piangi was standing by. She muttered something in Italian which caused him to snicker.  
  
A smile suddenly came across Fimrin's face. He approached Christine happily. "Ah, Mademoiselle Daae! We were just talking about you." Firmin lead Christine to Raoul, who took her hand lovingly. "You are the lady of the hour!"  
  
"What my friend is trying to say," Armand said, "is that you have recived the largest role in 'Dong Juan Triumphant.' You will be playing the role of Aminta."  
  
Carlotta frowned. "Christine? The lead? Ha! She doesn't have the voice! I should be the lead. I have my doubts. . . ."  
  
"Signora, please!" Firmin whispered. Carlotta raised her nose and began to mumble to herself. Firmin shook his head. "The cast was picked by the composer. We have no say in who is chosen."  
  
Raoul cleared his throat. The managers looked at him. "I take it you both agree?"  
  
Armand gave a heavy sigh. He settled behind his desk and looked at Raoul. "Yes, I suppose we do. It appears that we have no choice otherwise."  
  
Carlotta suddenly stood. Her eyes flashed as she pointed an angry finger at Christine. "She's the one behind all of this! Christine Daae has her name all over this!"  
  
"How dare you, signora?" Christine replied. She met the prima donna's angry glare. "You are an evil woman! This is in no way my fault!"  
  
"Do you think I'm blind?" Carlotta laughed. She said something to Piangi, who joined her laughter. Carlotta glared at Christine. "Everything just happens to be in your favor! You might as well be working with our little opera ghost."  
  
Christine let out a gasp. She looked at Raoul and the managers. "I don't want any part of this. This is a plot to destroy something out of our hands!"  
  
Firmin let out a nervous laugh. "But surely, Mademoiselle Daae, it is your decision, but why not help us?"  
  
Piangi eyed Christine as Carlotta returned to her chair. A smile of triumph was plastered across her face. "What does she say?" he asked softly.  
  
"The little girl is backing out!" Carlotta laughed.  
  
"Mademoiselle, you have to sing!" Armand said, breaking his short silence. "It is your duty as a performer and an opera star."  
  
Christine shook her head angrily. "Duty or not, I will not sing!"  
  
Raoul took Christine's hand. She turned and looked at him, her eyes full of fear. He smiled and kissed her hand softly. Her eyes softened and she smiled slightly. "Christine, you don't have to sing. No one can make you do this." Raoul said, trying to comfort Christine.  
  
Mme. Giry suddenly appeared in the door way. Meg was behind her, her eyes locking onto Christine who smiled at her. Mme. Giry cleared her throat, calling attention to herself. "Monsieur, I have recived a note."  
  
Armand waved his hand, signaling for the woman to read.  
  
"Greetings to you all. I have a few instructions before rehearsal begins." Mme. Giry paused, shuffling with the letter. "Signora Guidicelli must be taught to act! She cannot continue her career strutting around the stage a regurgitating lines. Our Don Juan needs to lose weight. It is unhealthy for a man of his age to indulge in such things. My managers must learn where their place in the theatre is. Remain in the office, my friends, and leave the arts to those who know it best.  
  
"As for Christine, she will do her best, her voice is good but it can be better. If she wishes to excel she has much to learn. If pride will let her, she will return to me for lessons. Your loyal friend and angel."  
  
There was a long silence as the last word left Mme. Giry's mouth. People exchanged worried glances. Carlotta whispered to Piangi, her eyes glued on Christine. Christine, on the other hand, stood still, her eyes never looking at another person. She fumbled with her fingers, her heart racing in her chest. They knew that she and the 'angel' spoke with each other. Her relationship was slowly being put in danger.  
  
"My God!" Raoul said, causing everyone to jump. A smile danced across his face. "Have we all been blind? The answer to our problem is staring us in the face! This could be our only chance to entrap our clever friend." He looked at the managers, who were watching him intently. "We shall do what this person wants, perform his opera exactly as he wants. Remember, though, we hold the key to it all. If Christine sings, he will be there."  
  
Armand nodded. "We have all the exists barred and make certain we have police here."  
  
"We must make sure they're well armed." Firmin said, a smile of approval forming on his face. "When the curtain falls, we'll have him!"  
  
With the approval of both managers everyone broke into a frenzy. They spoke to each other, their voices growing louder. Christine stood to one side, listening to it all. Mme. Giry was against it all, Meg standing at her side agreeing. Raoul and the managers quickly tried to convince them both to help them. No one knew the opera house better than Mme. Giry. With her on their side, they could pull it off.  
  
"You must help us! . . ."  
  
"We can turn the tide. . . ."  
  
"There is no way to turn the tide. . . ."  
  
"If Christine doesn't sing, no one can bring this man to his end. . . ."  
  
"She is behind all of this. . . ."  
  
"This will seal his fate!"  
  
"If you all don't shut up, I'll go mad!" Christine screamed, suddenly braking her silence. The others quickly fell silent, their eyes falling on the trembling starlet. Christine took Raoul's hand, her eyes pleading with her fiancé. "Raoul, please don't make me do this. This scares me and I'm frightened beyond belief. Don't put me through this, because he'll take me away in the end. We'll never be able to see each other again.  
  
"The things I used to dream for I fear when I begin to think of my future. If Er. . . . If he finds me this will never end. He will never leave me. He will always be there, singing songs in my mind."  
  
Carlotta nudged Piangi. "She's mad."  
  
Raoul wrapped his arms around Christine. "Christine, you said yourself that we're facing nothing more than a man. As long as he lives, he'll haunt us till we're dead."  
  
Christine pulled away from Raoul, feeling betrayed. She turned away from him, hiding her tears. "You've twisted every way, Raoul. What answer do you want from me? Do you want me to risk my life so I can live? Or should I betray the man that has inspired my voice? He may kill without a second thought and murder everything that is good in my life. I can't refuse, but I wish I could. Oh God! What will happen if I agree to this? What can I do."  
  
"Don't think that I don't care, Christine." Raoul said taking a step towards his love. "Our only hope and prayer is with you."  
  
As Raoul raises his hand to her, Christine pulls away. She looks at him, tears streaming down her face. A sorrowful look crosses his face as he looks at her. Christine shakes her head, not wanting Raoul to touch her. With a sudden sob she rushed out of the room, Meg following right behind her. 


	23. Chapter twenty two

Chapter twenty two  
  
  
  
Erik sat in Box five, his eyes fixated on the stage. The sets for his opera were being built. A few chorus members were being measured for costumes while others were flipping through their scripts. Monsieur Reyer is working with a small group of singers, going over the music piece by piece. Christine stood off to one side, reluctant to move and visibly shaken.  
  
"It seems like Piangi is having trouble with his part." Erik said softly. He held a small box in his gloved hand. He looked at it, a sad look coming over his face. With a sigh Erik slipped it into his cloak. "The damned fool can't sing a simple word."  
  
Mme. Giry stood behind Erik's seat, listening intently. She had been summoned to him only on intuition. Over the few years she managed to pick up a sixth sense and knew when to arrive. Her presence was always welcomed when she came to Erik's side, though he might not show it.  
  
"His accent is giving him the trouble." Mme. Giry replied. She looked down at the stage. The cast was talking at once, singing and laughing. Christine was still by herself, seeming to stare into space. "Mademoiselle Daae seems to be troubled, Monsieur. You have caused her some pain. I think it is finally taking its toll."  
  
Erik closed his eyes. "I never meant for it to happen. I tried to help her." He paused. With a heavy breath he continued. "I even tried to discontinue our meetings. All it did was drive her to tears. You know my feelings towards her. I can't bare to see her in pain."  
  
Mme. Giry nodded. "But what about now? Christine has grown pale and distraught. She is torn between you and the Vicomte de Chagny."  
  
"I know, but that will change in time." Erik said. He watched Christine slowly descend the stairs of the stage. Trance like she grabbed her cloak and put it on. Without a word to anyone she disappeared out the doors. "You must excuse me, Mme. Giry. I have something to tend to."  
  
**********  
  
Christine wandered down the familiar path. The sights of Paris was behind her, slowly peeling away into the endless green of trees and grass. A black iron gate was on her left, wet from an early rain. On the other side of the fence was a graveyard. It was hidden by rose bushes and tall trees, giving the area an ominous feeling.  
  
The large gate door was open, the dirt path marked with tracks from hooves, shoes, and wheels. Gray headstones and mausoleums were scattered around. Large stone angels watched Christine as she walked by. Statues of the Virgin Mary seemed to protect her, the cold, unfeeling statues praying silently. Crosses could be seen farther away, crows and vines slowly taking over the older head stones.  
  
After a few yards the dirt road was taken over by grass. Christine turned, at that point, to the right, following her familiar pilgrimage. Head stones floated by her, speaking silent stories of who they marked. Christine never bothered to look at them, she was never interested. All she was there to do was to see her father. He was always there to listen and comfort.  
  
The large mausoleum appeared before Christine. Vines crawled up the sides, spreading their arms around the cold stone. Dead flowers rested on the steps of the crypt from earlier visits, moss hanging over the windows and single door. Every time she came to the graveyard Christine felt a strange chill run through her body. She felt like she was being watched, but at the same time it was comforting.  
  
Christine came to the steps of the mausoleum. She pushed away a few bundles of dead flowers and took a seat. She pulled the cloak over her legs, trying to shield them from the cold breeze. Christine ran her hands over the steps, slowly spelling out her father's name. A tear trickled down her cheek and fell to the cold stone.  
  
"Papa." Christine whispered. She clutched her cloak. "Why did you leave me so soon? You had so much more to live. This place isn't for you. . . . Or me. I wish you could be here, to hold me and help me. I need you now, Papa. I wish I could have told you sooner, but it never seemed to cross my mind. Do you remember Raoul the Vicomte de Chagny? We are engaged, but there is a problem. There is another man that I would rather be with. Erik. We love each other and can't live without being together. I wish I would have known sooner. It would have saved me a lot of pain."  
  
The sound of a violin seemed to drift through the air. Christine looked up and listened to the soft song. She bit her lower lip and let the tears flow. The song was something her father loved to play. The name escaped her, but Christine knew the tune.  
  
"Raoul and the managers want to rid themselves of Erik." Christine said, finally regaining her voice. "No one knows about the two of us, except for Mme. Giry and a friend of Erik's. I can't tell anyone because Raoul will find out. It would hurt him and I don't want to hurt anyone, but it's hopeless. Without hurting anyone I care for, I hurt myself. Papa. . . . what should I do? Give me some type of sign."  
  
"My dear child." a voice whispered on the air. "So helpless in the world."  
  
Christine raised her head, noticing the violin was no more. The owner of the voice was no where to be found. She stood, her heart beat wildly in her chest as fear rose in her. Her eyes scanned the graveyard as she turned in every direction. There was no one around.  
  
"Who's there?" Christine called, her voice trembling. A soft wind rustled through the trees, sending a shudder through Christine.  
  
"Have you forgotten me?" the voice whispered in Christine's ear. She spun around, hoping to see someone, but there was no one. She felt like she was going mad. First she heard the violin and now she hears someone speaking to her that isn't there.  
  
Christine slowly crept up the steps of her father's mausoleum. Her heart raced in her chest, but was eased as she felt the stone cold door of the mausoleum. "Father. . . ."  
  
"Angel."  
  
A hand slowly caressed Christine's cheek. Her face followed the stroke of the hand. Christine felt her heart skip a beat as she stared into the eyes of Erik. He wore a black cloak, the hood pulled up and tossing a shadow over his masked face. The white mask glistened with a few drops of water. Christine couldn't tell if they were tears or rain drops.  
  
"Erik." Christine whispered.  
  
Without a word the two embraced. Christine let her tears fall freely as she was enveloped by Erik's cloak. His hands stroked her hair as he whispered to her. It felt like time stopped in their embrace. Neither one wanted to pull away, for a fear they might leave.  
  
"I should have never let you go." Erik whispered, slowly pulling away from Christine. He looked into her eyes. He smiled softly and caressed her cheek with a gloved hand. "My darling angel. You've wandered too far."  
  
Christine lowered her eyes slightly. "Erik, what is going to happen?"  
  
Erik paused, watching Christine's eyes soften their emotion. "What do you mean?"  
  
"To us." Christine whispered, turning her eyes to Erik's. "What's going to happen to us? Do you honestly believe that our love cannot work? We have shown our love for each other in many ways. Now, I'm engaged to Raoul and things have changed. I love you, Erik. I don't want to lose you. If I have to end my relationship with Raoul, I will."  
  
"You shouldn't worry about me." Erik replied, cupping Christine's chin in his hand. "I can live through anything. My life is complete just knowing that someone has loved me for who I am. Christine, listen to your heart. Only you know what is best. If you stay with me, I will live my days with you until the end of time. If you choose your fiancé, I will my life like I have before."  
  
Christine closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek, disappearing into Erik's glove. Her eyes opened and she stared in Erik's eyes. "Erik. . . ."  
  
Erik lowered his face to Christine's and kissed her. Her hands caressed his neck as the kiss began more passionate. They embraced each other, never breaking the kiss. Tears began to flow from Erik's closed eyes as he hoped that this was Christine's answer. He wanted to be with her, but he couldn't force her to stay.  
  
"Christine!"  
  
The single word seemed to cut through Erik's mind like a knife. He pulled away from Christine, slowly turning to see who was there. Much to his disgust it was Raoul. The Vicomte wore a suit that seemed disordered and his sandy blonde hair raked by a wind. His cheeks were rosy from the cold air and his breath coming out in deep breaths from a suggested run.  
  
"Raoul!" Christine cried, half in shock and amazement.  
  
"Get away from that man!" Raoul yelled. His eyes turned to Erik, who was silent. Slowly Raoul began to walk towards the mausoleum. "You! I recognize you from that damned masquerade. I shouldn't be surprised to see you with Christine, but I am surprised that you went as far as to kiss her. You, Monsieur, will pay for it."  
  
Christine shook her head. "Raoul, no!"  
  
Erik suddenly took hold of Christine's arm and pulled her close to him. "If you try and harm me, Monsieur le Vicomte, you will never see your precious Christine again."  
  
"Let her go." Raoul growled. His hand slipped into his pocket, grabbing hold of something unknown. "I said let her go." Erik didn't move, his eyes never leaving Raoul's. "You leave me no choice than, Monsieur."  
  
Raoul suddenly pulled his hand from his pocket. With all his force he threw a shard of glass towards Erik. With one swift movement the masked man pushed Christine away and pulled his cloak up. The glass sliced through the fabric, nearly cutting into the fabric of his glove.  
  
Erik let his cloak fall, his eyes seeming to stare into the depths of Raoul's soul. "You are a coward. You come here to take back your love and your only means of protection is glass." Erik let out a laugh. He reached into his cloak and took hold of his Punjab lasso. With a swift movement of his arm the lasso was around Raoul's wrist. "I'll show you a true battle."  
  
With a sneer Erik yanked on the lasso, pulling Raoul towards him and to the ground. Christine let out a scream of protest as Erik tightened the rope around Raoul's arm. Erik gave Raoul a hard kick to the shoulder and quickly removed the lasso from his forearm.  
  
"Get up." Erik snarled.  
  
Raoul slowly climbed to his feet, his hands balled into fists. With a cry of anger he lunched at the masked man. He landed a punch to the Erik's side, which caused him to stumble back a step or two. Erik retaliated by delivering a kick to Raoul's on coming fist. Raoul let out a yelp of pain that grew louder when Erik took the injured hand into his powerful grip. The pain grew as Erik applied pressure and forced the young aristocrat to his knees.  
  
"Erik, don't do this." Christine cried rushing to Raoul's side. "Don't kill him. Please."  
  
"What?" Erik said, his eyes turning to Christine. "Why should I spare him?"  
  
Christine looked at Erik, unable to gather her thought. "I. . . . I don't know."  
  
Without warning Raoul pulled his free arm back and put all his force into his punch. His hand came into contact with Erik's mask. The porcelain splintered on contact. Erik let out a blood curling scream. His hands flew to his face as he stumbled back. Raoul stood, cradling his injured hand and watching Erik come to a halt at the mausoleum stairs.  
  
Christine let out a cry of horror. "Oh my God. Erik!"  
  
Bloody shards of Erik's mask laid on the stone steps. His gloved hands were covering his wounded face, soaked with blood. A line of blood trickled down the bare flesh of his wrist, dripping to the stone steps. Erik lowered his hands and slowly began to remove the bloody gloves. He looked at Christine out of the corner of his eye. A look of horror was all he could see.  
  
"Erik!" Christine cried. She began to run to the mausoleum, but Raoul took her arm. With a powerful tug she was in Raoul's arms. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Erik. "No. My angel, please no."  
  
A confused look came across Raoul's face. "Angel?"  
  
Erik suddenly climbed to his feet. The hood of his cloak fell back, revealing his wound. His mask was still over his face, bloody and cracked. His blood trickled down his cheeks, slowly dipping down the curves of his neck. Erik's eyes danced with rage as he stared at Raoul.  
  
"Yes. I'm here, the Angel of Death." Erik mocked, holding out his arms. "Don't stop now, Monsieur. Don't you want to finish this?"  
  
Raoul narrowed his eyes and began to walk to the mausoleum.  
  
Christine suddenly seized Raoul's arm. "Raoul, no!" She shook her head. The tears had stopped and her eyes showed the horror that she held. "Don't do this, Raoul. He could kill you."  
  
"Don't stop now!" Erik snarled. Saying nothing Raoul took Christine's hand. He lead her down the path of tombstones and disappeared into the covering of trees. "I will not rest until I have what I want." Erik yelled, his voice echoing of the stones. "I promise you this." 


	24. Chapter twenty three

Phew! Sorry this took so long you guys. My graduation day is coming up and I had to make sure that everything at school was okay. It is so I'm happy.  
  
The plot thickens!!! *wiggles eyebrows* This is getting good and I'm happy with the results. To me, there are certain things that need some fine tuning, but its good for the most part. I used one of my favorite words to. Brouhaha! I love that word!! SQUEE. I also now have symbolism in the story. I don't know if you guys will catch it. Maybe I'm just imagining it. Oh well. Enjoy!!  
  
Kristen  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter twenty three  
  
  
  
The darkness that Erik eluded all his life was cast over him with one blow. Those hours were a blur. All he could remember was the heartache, the agonizing pain, and, yet, a sense of fulfilled love. Christine was taken from him once more, being whisked away by Raoul after the fight. Erik was left in the cemetery, to feel the pain and loss of Christine.  
  
Erik pushed open the door to his home, his vision blurred from his own blood. He collapsed to the floor with a cry of anger. He could feel the blood slowing it's pace from his wounds. With shaking hands he pulled back his hood, letting the dim candlelight wash over his shattered mask.  
  
"Akil?" Erik yelled. Silence surrounded Erik. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes tightly. Tears flowed, washing away some blood. "AKIL!"  
  
Erik's voice echoed through his home. The silence greeted Erik once more. He shook his head, his hair falling around his face and a few pieces of his broken mask falling to the floor. Sobs slowly began to well inside of his body as his soul cried out in pain. The feeling that was coming over him was new and unbearable. He could only suppose it was the feeling of a broken heart.  
  
Akil's voice was only a whisper in Erik's ear as the masked angel sobbed. The Persian knelt beside him, his mouth moving but nothing to be heard. Erik pushed him away, not wanting the comfort. Akil sat beside him, listening to his friend cry and hid his face from his peering eyes.  
  
"She left me, Akil." Erik whispered, his sobs finally dying away. "I don't think she'll ever come back to me now."  
  
"Who?" Akil asked.  
  
Erik slowly stood, managing to keep his face from Akil's eyes. "Christine. I met her today, in a cemetery. She spoke to her father, his tomb, and confessed to him her love for me. Christine was so close to telling me the one thing I long to hear. Raoul, though, decided to make his entrance at the wrong time. My emotions got the best of me. I nearly killed him, Akil. I knew that it would have done nothing, but the feeling of having his life in my hands was something I used to thrive on.  
  
"Then, the tables turned. Christine told me not to kill Raoul. She couldn't tell me why. Raoul saw his chance and took it. I was wounded and Christine was coming to me. Raoul took her away and it didn't seem like Christine was trying to return to my side. She would rather save the life of that fop than see if my own life was in danger."  
  
Akil had followed Erik to his room. The masked man stood next to his piano. He ran a bloody hand over the keys. Akil let out a startled gasp. "What happened? What exactly did Raoul do to you?"  
  
Taking in a deep breath Erik straightened his posture. He ran his bloody hands through his hair, pulling it away from his face. He slowly turned, his eyes staring into Akil's. The Persian's eyes widened as he saw Erik's shattered and bloody mask. Erik gave no expression, but watched Akil look over him.  
  
"How did he do this?" Akil asked. He took Erik by the arm and forced him to sit. Like a parent he slowly began to examine the wounds.  
  
Erik's eyes watched Akil's own move about. "I left myself defenseless and Raoul saw his chance. Its pure luck that I'm not blind."  
  
Akil nodded. "Now, this may hurt. I'm going to remove your mask and bandage up the wounds."  
  
"I have a feeling that my body and soul wont be able to feel anything again." Erik replied his eyes growing hard as he stared into nothing.  
  
**********  
  
Christine stared out of the carriage's window. The river rolled by them as did the Notre Dame cathedral. Her eyes watched the large cathedral, staring dreamily at the large stained glass window. The sound of the bells echoed in her mind. It had been years since she went to church, but Christine had no reason to go.  
  
"You seem troubled, my dear." Raoul said from beside her. He took Christine's hand into his own. He watched her as she placed a hand near her neck. She didn't look at him, but at the Cathedral. "Don't worry, my love. I will have another ring from you."  
  
Raoul turned Christine's face to his, forcing her to look at him. She stared at him blankly at first but smiled weakly. Raoul could tell that something wasn't right. Ever since the incident in the grave yard she seemed cold and distant. That strange man had done something to her. Raoul could only tell that much from what he knew.  
  
"Tell me what is bothering you." Raoul said, squeezing Christine's hand.  
  
Christine blinked and her smile faded. "Nothing is bothering me, Raoul. I'm just. . . . tired, I suppose. I feel drained."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I don't know, Raoul."  
  
"It must be from the rehearsal."  
  
"No. The rehearsal was fine. It wasn't that."  
  
"Then it was what happened in. . . ."  
  
"No! I'm just tired, Raoul! Do not pry into my life."  
  
Raoul was taken back by Christine's sudden outburst. She stared at him, her eyes a mixture of sorrow and anger. She turned her eyes away and pulled her hands away from Raoul's. He knew she had stepped over the line when he brought up the graveyard. Raoul knew, though, that her current condition was because of the little brouhaha.  
  
For a moment Raoul was silent. He turned his gaze away from Christine and stared into the empty space before him. He glanced at her a few times, but she continued to look out the window. Questions tugged at Raoul's mind. Questions that needed to be answered.  
  
Readjusting himself, Raoul turned his body to Christine so he could look at her comfortably. "Christine, who was that man in the cemetery?"  
  
Christine closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to hear what Raoul was saying. "I do not wish to speak about this, Raoul."  
  
"But I do." Raoul said, a twinge of anger creeping into his tone. "Do you know that man?" His anger began to swell when Christine didn't bother to answer. Raoul turned her angrily, not seeming to her frightened yelp. "Answer me."  
  
Tears began to grow in Christine's eyes. "Raoul, please. I do not wish to talk about what has happened. It is best to forget it."  
  
Raoul shook his head and let go of Christine. "I will not forget what happened. Just answer me, Christine. Do you know who he is."  
  
"Yes." Christine whispered, nodding her head slightly.  
  
"How?"  
  
"My. . . . My father spoke of him when I was younger." Christine said softly, her mind wandering back to her father's tales of the Angel of Music. "He was an angel and loved music. Papa was fond of him. . . ."  
  
Raoul cocked an eyebrow. "And you? Are you fond of him too?"  
  
Christine's eyes widened. "No!"  
  
"Than how can you explain what I saw?" Raoul asked through clenched teeth. He turned his gaze away from Christine, not wanting to see her tears. "I managed to find where you went from Mme. Giry. I was not expecting to see you in the arms of another man. To make things worse you tried to return to him after he was injured and insisted that I didn't finish him off when I could have."  
  
"It means nothing."  
  
"You were kissing him, Christine. What type of relationship do you have with this man? Have you done anything with him besides a simple kiss?"  
  
"I. . . . I. . . ."  
  
"Tell me."  
  
Christine closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "He is a friend of my family. I met him a few months before you arrived. We rarely talked but he came to every opera. The kiss was an accident, Raoul. He has a love and he knows I am engaged. He would never do a thing to tear us apart. He wants us to be happy. If you remember he was at the masquerade. He isn't on the best of terms with the managers."  
  
"They refer to him as the Opera Ghost." Raoul said, cutting Christine short. "I've heard stories about this so called ghost. Is he it?"  
  
"No." Christine replied, shaking her head. She wiped away the few tears that were trickling down her cheeks. "He took the pen name 'Opera Ghost' just to frighten people and to get his way. I was never told his name and I refer to him as. . . . angel because he holds an angelic heart."  
  
Raoul narrowed his eyes. "Angelic? The man was insane. He wears a mask and has threatened to take you away and kill me."  
  
Christine looked away. "He is a sweet man, Raoul. He would never hurt a person unless he thinks he has to." She returned her gaze to the rolling scenery. "All he wants is to protect me."  
  
"Christine."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Do you love this man?"  
  
"Raoul. . . ."  
  
"Do you?"  
  
"Take me home, Raoul. Just take me home."  
  
**********  
  
Erik laid on his bed, his fingers trailing over the spot Christine once occupied. The smell of her perfume was still on the sheets. Akil had spent the last hour tending to him, making sure Erik was in complete comfort. Much to their surprise Erik's wounds weren't bad. The porcelain didn't cut into all of his face. There were small abrasions around his eyes and a cut down the right side of his face, only adding to his already distorted face.  
  
Through the silence of the hours Akil returned from a short trip to his château. He came to he side of Erik's bed and said nothing. The anger still lingered in Erik's eyes and tears of pain would trickle down his cheeks. There was no way of saving his mask and Erik's second mask had turned up missing. To Erik's silent delight Akil had kept one at his home.  
  
"Erik?" Akil said softly. His friend raised his eyes and remained silent. Akil held out the package he had returned with. "I brought you the mask. I'm sorry to say, but it doesn't look quiet like the other ones. The man who made it took it upon himself to alter it. I could have another one within the week."  
  
"No." Erik whispered. He took the package and slowly sat up. "There is no need for that. As long as its suitable, I will be happy."  
  
Saying nothing else, Erik took the brown cord and tugged on it. The sloppy bow came loose and the cord wilted to the bed. His fingers slowly pulled away the black packaging. Erik paused and stared down at the mask in his lap. The porcelain was as black as night and the eye was out lined with silver which slowly dropped into a tear.  
  
Akil cleared his throat. "Personally I think the man went a little far. I told him it wasn't for a masquerade but I think he heard wrong. Then again, he always. . . .  
  
"My dear, dear Akil. You're rambling off into nonsense." Erik said, cutting him off harshly. With expert hands he put the mask on and tied it into place. He stood and approached the mirror near his bed. A soft smile crossed his face as Erik saw his reflection. The new 'design' seemed to suit how he felt.  
  
"It looks nice." Akil said softly.  
  
The smile on Erik's face grew more sinister. "Its perfect, Akil. Its just perfect." 


	25. Chapter twenty four

GOD! I'm a busy little critter. I like this chapter. Nice things are happening. I want to rewrite the song part. Its so much better when I have it in my mind than when it's written. BLAH. You better be damn happy that I have TWO chapters up. I think there will be two more and an epilogue. Oh the anticipation! What will happen with Christine and Erik? What about Raoul? And where did I put Akil? CRAP! I gotta find the Persian. I shall return and should have the Persian.  
  
Kristen  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter twenty four  
  
  
  
The weeks passed in the opera house. Raoul and Christine seemed to forget their little tiff in the carriage, but neither could forget what happed in the grave yard. Erik seemed to disappear, but occasionally made the chorus girls scream and scatter. Christine would sit in front of her mirror, begging Erik to return to her but she would never her a reply.  
  
Christine sat in front of her vanity mirror, starring at her reflection. It was opening night for 'Don Juan Triumphant' and she was in full costume. The echoes of music and applause drifted to her room. The audience loved her and Christine was delighted by it all. On stage, though, she would grow frightened when her eyes wandered to box five. She would see shadows in the box which, she could only imagine, belonged to Erik.  
  
There came a soft knock at the door. Christine sighed and looked at it through the mirror. "Come in." she said, loud enough for the person to hear.  
  
The door flew open and Meg scurried in. She breathed hard and her cheeks were rosy from, both, the stage make-up and a quick run. Meg looked at Christine and gave her a smile. She through her arms around her friend.  
  
"What is wrong, Meg?" Christine asked, some what baffled by the ballerina's actions. "I can not tell if you're happy or frightened."  
  
Meg giggled. "I'm both Christine!"  
  
"Both?" Christine asked.  
  
"Yes!" Meg took a seat on Christine's couch. Christine turned in her chair and looked at her. "I am happy that you've recived the lead! This is the first time you've done this without shoving Carlotta to the side."  
  
Christine smiled. "Thank you. But why are you scared?"  
  
Meg's eyes glanced at the door as if she was making sure someone wasn't there. "We are locked in the opera house. All the doors have been bolted and there are guards everywhere. Mother tells me that the managers and your fiancé had it finalized last week."  
  
"Why?" Christine asked, standing quickly. Her heart was racing in her chest.  
  
"To protect you." Meg replied standing and looking her friend in the eyes.  
  
"From what?"  
  
"The composer of the opera. They say he's here, somewhere. If he tries to do anything to you, they'll shoot him." Meg paused. Christine was trembling. Meg lowered her eyes. "The guards have been told that their duty is to shoot the man if they see him."  
  
Christine shook her head. "This can't be happening."  
  
Meg wrapped her arms around Christine and held her friend. She listened to her sobs. "Christine, it will be okay. You are protected from this man."  
  
The sobs ceased and Christine shook her head. "I'm not worrying about me. I'm worrying about the man they're going after."  
  
"Why?" Meg asked, confused by what Christine said.  
  
"I have to tell you something, Meg." Christine whispered, taking Meg's hands into her own. "You can not tell anyone what I am going to tell you. Only four people truly know what has been happening in the past few months. Your mother, the man who lives in the shadows, a Persian man, and myself."  
  
Meg squeezed Christine's hands. "You can trust me, Christine. All I want is for you to be happy. It does not matter what you tell me, I will not utter it to another soul."  
  
Christine smiled softly. She whispered her appreciation and kissed Meg's cheek. "The man that lives in the shadows is the Opera Ghost. His name is Erik. He has lived beneath the opera house ever since it was built and has taught me to sing many months ago. I don't know what happened but the two of us have fallen in love, but it seems like we are cursed to be apart. My engagement to Raoul has made no difference in our feelings and now Raoul knows of my affair."  
  
"Who is the Persian man?" Meg asked after a moment of silence.  
  
"He is a friend of Erik's. An old teacher from Persia." Christine explained. "His name is Akil.  
  
Meg nodded. "And what about my mother? What does she have to do with all of this?"  
  
"You mother has helped Erik in so many ways." Christine said with a smile. "She has protected him and myself. She guided him and has treated him like a son. Erik loves her like a mother."  
  
Meg smiled. "That's just like mother."  
  
Christine laughed softly. "Yes."  
  
"Well, I think we better go see where we are." Meg said with a giggle. "I do not think it would be good for you to miss a cue."  
  
"You're right!" Christine gasped. She hurried out into the hall. "We better not be late!"  
  
**********  
  
Erik crept behind the set pieces, his cloak moving like a shadow. He slithered past a few people, smiling as he rolled a ball into the midst of them. The people saw the ball and scattered like rats. Erik muffled his laugh with a gloved hand.  
  
The song continued on stage between Passarino and Don Juan. Erik knew he had little time to set his plan into action. In one last effort he was going to take Christine away from the opera which had plagued him for years. He was going to steal her away to his home and have her dreams become a reality. If she wouldn't stay there on her own will, Erik would force her to remain with him. He couldn't live without her. It was driving him insane.  
  
"Do not move."  
  
The barrel of a gun was suddenly pressed against Erik's neck. A chill ran through him as he felt the icy nozzle. Erik didn't move and waited to hear what the guard had to say. He could hear the man's heavy breathing. A smile formed over his lips as he figured the heavy breathes were from fear.  
  
"You have your orders, monsieur." Erik said with a laugh. "Will you not shoot me or will you stand there like a common fool?"  
  
"If you move I will shoot without a second thought." the guard replied, his voice shaking.  
  
Erik laughed despite himself. "I do not think you'll manage that."  
  
Before the guard could reply Erik took hold of his Punjab lasso and had it around the man's neck. A surprised gasp escaped the man as he fell to his knees. Erik stood over him, holding the lasso firmly. He sneered as he looked into the guard's eyes. With a jerk of his wrist a sickening crack sounded from the guard's neck and he fell to the ground, dead.  
  
"You should be happy it was a quick death, my friend." Erik whispered kneeling beside the dead body. He slowly worked on loosening the lasso and pulling off the man's neck. "I could have been sadistic and tortured you a little. No. That would be inhumane. If I had more time I would have let you chase me. Oh well. Your lose."  
  
Erik stood and replaced the Punjab lasso in his cloak. He looked around and was, somewhat, relieved that no one was around. Without looking back at the body he continued his slow trek through the stage. The song was near end and Erik had a short time to get to the right side of the stage.  
  
The voice of Piangi was no more and he was obviously scuttling off stage. Erik leapt over a few set pieces and came to a stop at the corner of the hidden bedroom. He peered around the corner hiding in the shadows. Piangi was taking a short break and sat on the bed, fanning himself with a hand. His face was flushed from singing  
  
"I am sorry, Piangi, but you will not be singing tonight." Erik said loud enough so Piangi could hear him.  
  
Piangi stood, his eyes wide with fear. "Who is there?"  
  
Erik took a step out of the shadows. "The last person you will see alive."  
  
With a smile the Punjab lasso was around Piangi's neck and he was killed in one swift movement.  
  
**********  
  
Christine slowly walked onto the stage. It was empty of the other singers and she could see no one in the wings. She removed her cloak and put it on a chair. With a sigh she sat at the large table and looked at the food that was set before her. Christine glanced about and smiled. She took an apple from the table and takes a bite.  
  
A person wrapped in a black robe slowly walked onto the stage. The hood of the robe hid the face from the audience. The person walked with animal like grace and never made a sound. The person paused behind Christine, who was still focused on the apple, and slowly put a hand onto her shoulder, startling the young singer.  
  
"You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge. In pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent. . . ." the man sang the song sweetly to Christine. He cradled her chin in his hand, catching her eye. He moved his head slightly, which let the light flash over his face. Christine let out a stifled gasp. The man was Erik.  
  
"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind you've already succumbed to me dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me. Now you are here with me: no second thoughts, you've decided, decided. . . ."  
  
Erik moved around Christine and knelt be side her, looking up into her eyes. "Past the point  
  
of no return. No backward glances. The games we've played till now are at an end. . . . Past all thought  
  
of "if" or "when", no use resisting. Abandon thought, and let the dream descend."  
  
Christine turned away from Erik's gaze. He stood and took her face into his. She turned and looked at him once more. "What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us. . . ?" Erik slowly stroked her cheek with his gloved hand. Her gaze turned more loving towards him.  
  
"Past the point of no return, the final threshold. What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return. . . ." Erik turned away from Christine. He took a seat at the table, farther away from Christine.  
  
Christine looked down at her hands, feeling her heart beating wildly in her chest. "You have brought me to that moment where words run dry. To that moment where speech disappears into silence,  
  
silence. . . ." She looked at Erik, who averted his eyes. "I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenseless and silent. . . . and now I am  
  
here with you no second thoughts, I've decided, decided. . . ."  
  
Slowly Christine stood. With every few words she grew closer to Erik. "Past the point  
  
of no return, no going back now. Our passion-play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question, how long should we two wait, before we're one?"  
  
Christine knelt beside Erik and took his hands into own, kissing them softly. "When will the blood  
  
begin to race the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us?"  
  
Erik stood and lifted Christine to her feet. He put his arms around her, holding her close to him and staring into her eyes. At the same moment their voices became one as the song approached it's end. "Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no return."  
  
Silence settled around the two as they stared into each other's eyes. Erik raised a hand and stroked Christine's cheek. She was awe struck by Erik's new mask. The silver lining around the eye drew her attention but the sheer darkness of it all caused her to shudder.  
  
"Why have you done this?" Christine asked, seemingly to forget that an audience was watching them. "Why did you have to come to me? They will find out and they will kill you. I don't want to lose you to death."  
  
Erik studied Christine's eyes. "Christine, promise me you'll share your love and your life with me. Only you can lead me away from this solitude. You can save me from this world that has slowly killed me." From a hidden pocket he produces a box. Erik opens it, slowly reveling to Christine a golden ring with a blood red ruby as the charm.  
  
"It's beautiful." Christine breathed as Erik slipped it onto her ring finger. Happiness washed over her as she looked at it.  
  
"Say you want to be with me forever, Christine." Erik said, his eyes slowly filling with tears. "We can travel the world together. All you need to do is be my wife and I can show you heaven."  
  
Christine raised her hands. She slowly pulled back the robe's hood letting the stage light fall onto his masked face. Gasps rose from the audience and yelling from the back could be heard. Christine's hands began to tremble as they closed around Erik's black mask. He closed his eyes, letting a tear fall. Without a word she pulled the mask off.  
  
Screams suddenly erupted from every corner of the audience. The light fell onto Erik's unmasked face for the whole world to see. He moved his head to one side, letting his hair fall into his face. His hands slowly turned into fists as the screams continued.  
  
Christine turned Erik's face so he could only see her. "Erik?"  
  
"Christine, please." Erik whispered. "Give me your answer. I do not wish to go through the pain of your silence and the screams of sheer horror."  
  
"Show me the world." Christine replied in a hush voice. She touched Erik's face, her fingers grazing over the deformed skin. "Show me heaven."  
  
Erik smiled. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a mob of guards slowly approaching them. He looked into Christine's eyes. With one sweep of his cloak the two disappeared from the stage. 


	26. Chapter twenty five

Chapter twenty five  
  
  
Raoul raced into the wings of the stage. People were panicking and the shrill sound of someone   
crying echoed off the walls. Raoul pushed past the crowd, trying to find the managers. A few paramedics   
suddenly pushed by him, saying nothing to him. Raoul frowned but followed them quickly.  
"Christine?" Raoul yelled, hoping that she was near. "Christine?"  
"There is no use in shouting for her." Firmin said, seeming to appear out of no where. He looked   
at Raoul gravely. "She has been taken away."  
Raoul's eyes widened. "What?" He suddenly seized Firmin by the collar of his shirt. "What do   
you mean she has been taken away?" Raoul shook the manager angrily. "Tell me."  
Firmin pushed Raoul back with an angry look. He glared at the young aristocrat. "I suppose you   
didn't notice that both she and our Phantom have seemed to disappear, together. She has been taken away   
by our masked friend."  
"I thought the police were to be watching her." Raoul growled.  
"They were, but he got past them."  
"How?"  
"Make way!"  
Raoul and Firmin stepped to the side, letting a line of people through. Carlotta was being dragged   
away by an officer, crying out. Before Raoul could speak he saw the dead body of Piangi slowly being cut   
free from the noose. He turned away quickly, the image of Piangi's head, turned to one side in an inhuman   
way, was stuck in his mind.  
Firmin cleared his throat, causing Raoul to look at him. "As you can see, he killed Signor Piangi.   
He took his costume and came on stage in his place. We have a feeling that Mademoiselle Daae knew that it   
was him."  
"If she knew it was him, I think Christine would have done something to stay away from him."   
Raoul spat.  
"Firmin!" Armand called from the midst of police officers. He waved his hand franticly. "Come   
here. We must speak with you."  
"If you will excuse me." Firmin said and jogged over to Armand.  
Raoul leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. All of this was beginning to confuse him.   
Christine said she had no feelings for this man, but it seems like she does. Now, she disappeared with this   
strange 'friend.'  
"How will I find her?" Raoul said aloud.  
A hand suddenly came down on Raoul's shoulder, frightening him. Mme. Giry stood at his side,   
her dull eyes looking into his. "I can help you, Monsieur. There is a man that knows where Christine has   
been taken."  
  
**********  
  
The hall was dark and the candles slowly burning out. Erik lead Christine through the darkness   
with ease. The screams and yelling followed them, frightening Christine with every step. Erik tried his best   
comfort her as they hurried through the halls. Her tears ran free, but she made no noise. She wouldn't   
answer him or react when he grew impatient at her lagging speed.  
"Christine, what is the matter?" Erik asked, finally coming to the door of her dressing room. He   
turned and looked at Christine. She looked into his eyes, her own hazed with tears. A tinge of anger began   
to well in side him. "Why wont you speak to me? Does my face still frighten you, Christine?" Erik   
suddenly grabbed Christine's arm and pulled her close to him. His eyes studied the emotions that flashed   
across her face. "Can you live with this, Christine? This is what you will have to look at everyday. This   
horror that has plagued me all my life is now upon you."  
Silence enveloped them both. Erik stared harshly into Christine's tear filled eyes. She blinked,   
sending those tears down her cheeks. She never moved her eyes away from his. Erik felt his heart ache as   
he wondered what she was doing. The tears slowly disappeared, but Christine still looked into the deformed   
face of the man she once believed to be an angel. That angel was still there and she knew that it was.  
Christine lifted her hands and slowly touched Erik's face. He shuddered with the feeling and   
moved away from her grasp. Christine let her hands slowly go to her sides. "Your face doesn't scare me,   
Erik. It never will again. These scars from long ago and the deformation of your child hood is no longer   
there, in my eyes. It is your soul that is scarred more than your face could ever be. Let me love you. Let   
me love you like a mother, sister, and a. . . ."  
"A wife." Erik whispered, cutting Christine off. He looked back into her eyes. The tears still   
glistened in her eyes and he knew that the anger lingered in his own. He turned his eyes away and slipped   
into the dressing room. Christine followed closely, not bothering to close the door behind her.  
"I will do anything to make you happy." Christine said. She lowered her eyes. "It seems that you   
have rarely seen joy in your life. Maybe God has placed me in your existence to do just that."  
Erik closed his eyes tightly. This was something he never expected. Christine seemed to be   
withering away before his eyes. There was no more joy in her eyes and voice. The starlet seemed frightened   
but wouldn't admit to it. He had ruined something without even knowing it.  
"This way, Monsieur Le Vicomte. This way."  
The voice cut through the silence like a knife. Erik opened his eyes like a flash of lightning.   
Christine's eyes widened with fear and she moved to Erik's side. He was startled as she took his hand,   
squeezing it tenderly. He looked at her and saw the fear of being caught moving in her soul. He knew she   
was troubled by the events of the past few months. How much more could she take?  
"Erik. . . ." Christine breathed, holding Erik's hand tightly. She looked up and blushed instantly.   
He was staring at her. Christine smiled softly and Erik, much to her joy, returned the smile.  
Slowly Erik put a gloved finger to Christine's lips. "Hush. It seems that Monsieur Le Vicomte has   
found a guide. If we linger in one place for too long we'll be caught." He raised Christine's hand to his lips   
and kissed it softly. He caught her. "Their only way into my home is through the labyrinth, for I have stolen   
his only keys to my gates. My dear Akil, though, has never seen such a thing as my labyrinth."  
Pressing a panel against the mirror's frame, the glass shifted and let free an opening. Erik took   
Christine's hand and helped her pass through the breach. Before disappearing behind the glass himself, he   
glanced into the darkness. He could hear Akil and Raoul's voices echoing down the hall. They were calling   
to Christine. Erik smiled to himself and disappeared into the darkness of his labyrinth.  
  
**********  
  
Raoul followed the Persian closely. The man said he was a friend of the strange man and never   
gave the young Vicomte his name. He had originally taken him out to the street, claiming he had a key to a   
door. The door, the Persian explained, lead to a little known path way that lead straight to the Phantom's   
home. Upon their arrival the Persian found that he no longer had the key to the door. Without an   
explanation the two ran back into the opera house and began their quest through the darkened halls.  
"I heard their voices around here." the Persian whispered. He raised his lantern, shinning his light   
along the walls of the hall way. He soon came to a stop. A smile slowly appeared over his dark skinned   
face. He pointed a finger and Raoul followed it. "Is that Mademoiselle Daae's dressing room?" the Persian   
asked, slowly walking towards an open door.  
"Yes it is." Raoul replied, following the Persian. He raised his own lantern, studying the area   
around him. "Why would they go in here? If that thing wanted to hide her, why leave the door open?"  
The two slipped into Christine's dressing room. The Persian closed and latched the door behind   
them. He set his lantern down on the vanity table. The light reflected off the mirror, sending strange   
shadows every which way. Raoul's eyes darted around the room. He saw nothing out of the ordinary.   
Clothes were in their same place as were the things Christine held dear to her.  
Raoul lifted his gaze from a small bunch of roses and looked at the Persian. He was standing in   
front of the floor length mirror. His dark eyes were studying the frame and his fingers pushing on the glass   
slightly. Raoul cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. The Persian was a strange man and his ways were   
even stranger.  
"I don't think they're behind the mirror." Raoul said, opening a drawer from the vanity table. He   
pushed a few items of jewelry around but noticed nothing strange. He turned and looked at the Persian.   
The man was now studying the frame of the mirror. His hands groped the sides, pressing down here and   
there. "What exactly are you looking for?"  
The Persian let out a frustrated sigh and took a few steps back. He studied the mirror from his   
distance. "Raoul, this man we're chasing isn't like any other man you've met. He is a master of disguise   
and stealth. He can also create things beyond your imagination. When he lived in Persia and served under   
the Shah, he created a horrid maze of mirrors for the Shah's mother. The only purpose of the maze was for   
a morbid enjoyment." The Persian paused, gazing into the looking glass. "My friend is obsessed with   
mirrors and knows how to manipulate them for his own design."  
Raoul began to stare at the mirror himself. "Are you saying there is something behind that mirror?"  
A smile crossed the Persian's face and he shrugged. "That is what I think." He motioned for   
Raoul to follow him. He began to run his hand down the mirror's frame. "There is no way you can move   
this mirror away from this spot. It is built into this wall. All the other rooms don't have a mirror like this.   
This has to bee the only way to find him. There has to be some type of mechanism to get through, but I   
can't seem to find it."  
Slowly the two began the task of examining the mirror's case. Their fingers probed every twist and   
turn of the frame's artwork. Nothing was lose. Nothing could be pushed, pulled, or moved in any way.   
With every passing moment their hopes began to fail.  
With a cry of rage Raoul kicked the mirror's frame. The Persian jumped away, shocked at the   
man's sudden burst of energy. Raoul kicked the frame again, this time his foot coming in contact with   
something they had both overlooked. A small piece of the mirror's frame was different than the others. It   
had been turned upside down and placed at the very bottom, just out of the eye's reach. In a blind rage,   
Raoul managed to find it.  
The mirror moved with a creak. The two men fell silent and they exchanged glances. Raoul took a   
step forward, holding the lantern at eye level. The beams of light revealed a long, stone passageway. Lights   
flickered in the dark distance and the sound of water echoed through the air.  
"You've found it." The Persian whispered. He laughed, mainly for the fact of Raoul's dumb luck.   
"We just might have a chance to save Christine."  
Raoul glared at the Persian. "What do you mean, might?"  
"This wont be as simple as you think." The Persian took the lantern from Raoul. He stepped   
beyond the glass and into the mouth of the passageway. He glanced at Raoul. "Like I said before, he   
created a maze for morbid pleasure. Our journey through this darkness will determine if we live or die, and   
will resolve Christine's fate"  
Taking the lamp from the vanity table Raoul stepped into the labyrinth. He looked at the Persian   
and let out a heavy breath. "I don't care what it takes. I'll save Christine from this murderer, even if I have   
to kill the man." 


End file.
